Unspoken
by FidesNemo
Summary: After the war, Katniss spends most of her days alone. When an unexpected visitor shatters the fragile peace of her life, she is forced to confront her guilt, regrets, and doubts on a journey to recovery. Cloveniss pairing. NOTES: Prim and Finnick survived the revolution. Mrs. Everdeen still resides in Dist. 12.
1. Sleep

There will be rest, and sure stars shining

Over the rooftops crowned with snow.

A reign of rest, serene forgetting,

The music of stillness holy and low.

I will make this world of my devising

Out of a dream in my lonely mind.

I shall find the crystal of peace – above me

Stars I shall find.

_~Sara Teasdale_

**-1-**

**Sleep**

A late afternoon snow caught everyone by surprise. The storm brought with it biting winds that drove people indoors and built fantastic drifts in the meadow. I watched it swirl from my kitchen window until night fell, each moment regretting not taking my walk when I had the chance. This day was wasted. Then again, most of mine are. I have nothing to fill my time like Peeta has.

He's still at the bakery catering to all those who were unprepared for the snow. Someone always needs the extra food when there's bad weather. Being essential gives purpose to Peeta's life. He does whatever he can to serve the people of District Twelve and to serve me, and I love him for it – but not the way he wishes I did. That probably makes me selfish. I owe him everything.

No. I don't let my thoughts go down that path. Nothing good lies at the end. All that matters is the here and now. That's what he and Prim told me to tell myself when I feel the anguish inside clawing to get out.

Here and now.

Peeta knew he would be late tonight, so he asked Prim to stay with me. She came around dinnertime and tried to hide that she was there to keep an eye on me, but we both know I can't be trusted alone at night.

Here and now. My sister's presence comforts me. She's curled up asleep in the chair by the fireplace with book and cat faithfully in her lap. From my blanket cocoon on the couch, I watch her chest rise and fall. Rise and fall. Safe and alive and close. The fire crackles. My head nods, filling with the gray mist of half-dreams. Muffled voices murmur, as if I'm underwater and listening to people talk above the surface. A mockingjay sings the pattern I taught to Rue. A glass clinks. A chair scrapes on a floor. Those don't belong.

I jerk awake in a rush of panic. Someone is in the kitchen. I fling the blanket off and seize the fire poker from the hearth. The intruder hears. Quick footsteps come down the hall, and I prepare to strike. If only I had my bow I could –

"Katniss?" Peeta is suddenly silhouetted against the hallway light. "Easy. It's just me. I'm sorry."

Relief, embarrassment and anger hit me all at once. "It's fine." I lower the poker, but my heart won't stop pounding. I tense and step back when Peeta comes toward me. "It's fine," I say again, harsher. The fire is embers. How long was I out?

"What's going on?" Prim sits up, disturbing Buttercup.

"Nothing. I just got scared."

"Oh." She frowns. "I shouldn't have fallen asleep."

"You need your rest." I try to keep my voice neutral for her.

She glances at Peeta, then at the clock. "I should get back before Mom starts worrying. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I replace the poker on the fireplace. "I'm good."

She hugs me and puts on her coat. "Lunch tomorrow?"

"Sure."

She ventures outside with a disgruntled Buttercup following at her heels. Snow is still coming down. It's falling peacefully now; the wind ceased hours ago, and most of the roads are plowed. Prim says goodnight and sets off down the lamp-lit street. It's about a mile back to the house she shares with our mother, but I know she'll be okay. With her hands in mittens and her pigtails peeking out from under a furry hat, she has the appearance of a little girl. Beneath that outward youth, though, is a woman stronger and more composed than I could ever be.

Peeta touches my shoulder, and this time I let him. It's the least I can do. "Do you want to go up to bed?"

No. I never want to sleep. I may not even be able to after a scare like this, but Peeta is tired, and I don't want to sit alone in the darkened house. So I nod, and he leads me upstairs. I crawl under the covers, and when he slides in beside me I murmur, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For threatening you with a fire poker?"

"Don't worry. I survived." He smiles and kisses my hair. I keep waiting for these moments to make my heart flutter like I've heard they should. Peeta's closeness is welcome, but something always feels wrong when I think of what it means to him. For his sake, I wish I weren't so uncomfortable. He wants to make me his wife, but I have a hard time even saying 'I love you.' What will I do when much more than that is expected of me? A hard kernel of fear has grown in me over the past months – fear that eventually he'll realize it's futile and find someone else to keep warm at night. Fear that I will be left here to pass all my days in the woods or staring out the window. Maybe it would be better that way. After all, our lives no longer depend on my act.

Here and now. I have to stop this spiral before it keeps me up all night. To wipe my thoughts blank I count Peeta's rhythmic breaths as they tickle my neck. Slowly, my body and mind relax. I can still see snow quietly falling. I gaze at it until my eyes close and sleep takes me under.

In my dream I have a conversation with Madge Undersee. We sit together on a hill with fingers entwined as the sunset turns the winter countryside to gold. She wears the white dress she always saved for special days, and her hair falls over her shoulders in perfect waves. Even death cannot tarnish her beauty. I feel a tug at my heart when she turns her eyes to me. "Do you ever think of me?" she asks.

"Of course. I miss you every day."

"Are things better now?"  
"Yes. People are free again."

"So… it was all worth it?"

I don't answer. I can't.

She lays her head on my shoulder. "Are you happier?"

"I try not to think about what I feel." I wish I could feel forever like I do right now. I squeeze her hand.

"We could be happy. Together again, just like this."

We watch the sun sink low. I know we should be freezing, but I'm comfortable next to her. It's wrong, I suddenly think, that I survived the war and she did not.

"I don't blame you," she says as if reading my thoughts. "But I wish you'd come with me."

"I can't leave my sister."

"But I'm lonely."

"I can't…" Madge's familiar aura is changing. The safe, secure feeling is replaced with creeping dread. I don't want to be here anymore. A little cry escapes me when I look down – her eyes are filling with black.

"I'm cold, Katniss." Her breath chills my neck. "Won't you keep me warm?"

"Stop!" My eyes snap open. The bed is empty and the house is quiet. Gray morning light filters through the window. I let out a deep breath. I've never been so frightened after a dream visit from Madge. She was always an oasis among nightmares, a small light in the darkness, just as she was in life. Until now. To wash away the haunting image, I take our memory book from the bedside table drawer and flip to her page. There's a photo of us on our last day of school, taken by her father several years before my first Games. The smile on my face always surprises me. Only a few people could release that kind of happiness in me. I do miss Madge terribly. I took my time with her for granted, and now she's gone. Never again will we go walking in the woods together. Never again will I steady her arm as she aims the bow at trees, or hear her laugh with excitement when her arrows find their targets. She'll never play the piano for me or talk with me when no one else will. The lump in my throat grows until I can't hold back. I press my face into the pillow and cry for just one more day with my best friend.


	2. Phantoms

**-2-**

**Phantoms**

There is a pristine stillness in the air the morning after a snowfall. A soft blanket lies over everything, making the world clean and quiet. Even the noise of the construction crews and their machines can't reach me. Nestled against a tree trunk just beyond the edge of the white meadow, I am an island – the last person on Earth.

Winter has long since seeped through my clothes, but I welcome it. It takes focus to ignore the cold in my limbs. When I concentrate on this tangible thing, my thoughts can't stray to dark places. It's easy to stay in the here and now far from town, far from people, safe in the light of day. I'm taken back to the countless days just like this one when I endured the elements to feed my family. With no one relying on me anymore, I could simply enjoy the solitude forever. Time itself is frozen here. I sit until my body is numb and I can drift in nonexistence without bounds or fears, without past, present, or future. There is only the snow, the trees, and the gray sky above.

_Snap._

I twist around, sending a painful spasm up my leg. "Who's there?" A squirrel jumps from branch to branch high above me, but still my neck prickles. The twig sounded much closer. The squirrel vanishes into its nest and silence falls again. Nothing else moves. I wait and listen. I want to return to numbness, but it's no use trying to relax now with my veins full of adrenaline. I shiver and stand, ignoring my cramping muscles as I hurry out of the tree line. Such a little fright shouldn't set me so on edge, but I am unarmed, and my imagination has no trouble seeing threats concealed among the trees that were supposed to hide me. It's better to leave than to allow fear into my sanctuary. Besides, Prim will worry if I'm not home when she arrives. She'll be there soon. Yes, that's why I'm leaving.

I feel eyes on my back all the way to the fence.

Lunch with Prim is often a quiet affair, but it's a comfortable quiet. There's no awkward twist in my gut as when long silences stretch between Peeta and me – like he's waiting for me to speak when I have nothing to say. Prim doesn't need to fill each moment with words. She just gets plates and cups for us and lays out the sandwiches she brought along. Buttercup jumps on the table, but I don't even push him off. He's earned my tolerance through his loyalty to her.

Prim tells me briefly about her morning at the clinic, then asks how I feel. I can tell from the way she's searching my face that she's thinking about last night.

"Better," I reply. "I took my walk."

"There's a foot of snow down!"

I shrug. "Never let weather spoil my fun before."

Her musical laugh pulls a little smile from me. I can be this way around Prim. Peeta and I have had similar conversations, but he tends to escalate them by reminding me that I have people who care about me, and that isolation won't help me escape the past. Even if Prim feels that way, she doesn't say so. She accepts what I need to do for myself. I hope she knows how much that means to me.

Too soon, it's time for her to go back. I tell her not to worry about the dishes; cleaning up will give me something to do. She puts her coat on and says goodbye, and I return to the kitchen to clear the table. Each footstep echoes; each plate and cup I set in the sink seems impossibly loud. Silence in an empty house is not the same as silence in the woods. Here, it is out of place. There should be a family – children, laughter, pictures on the walls… Happiness. Instead there is only me, and I don't belong.

It's then that I happen to glance up at the window. Behind my faint reflection stands my dead friend, dressed all in white with a hand outstretched to me. The shock takes my breath away, but there is no one there when I spin around to confront the vision. I turn off the water and listen for anything that would suggest I'm not alone. All I hear is my own pounding heart.

I never believed in ghosts – at least not ones outside my own head – but that doesn't make the crawling dread inside any less real. My nightmares are leaking into the waking world, and the shadows in this big, empty house give them strength. I have to get out. I don't care where I go, as long as it's not here. My boots and coat are still damp from this morning, but I pull them on anyway and stumble outside, slamming the door on all the foolish fear.

I don't go back to the woods. A wind has picked up, bringing clouds and cold down from the north. It's nothing I haven't endured before, but I don't want to be out there if another storm is on its way. Instead, I wander through the deserted streets of the Seam. Acres of charred rubble were cleared away in the course of a year, and many houses were rebuilt bigger and better than before. Lives were reclaimed. Even so, it's impossible to erase all the scars of the war I started. Here stands a tree, blackened and dead. There lies an abandoned foundation. Concrete steps lead eerily up to nowhere.

And there – my feet have led me to where Gale once lived. Someone new now enjoys the little property he and his family vacated. I wonder if he likes life in District Two. He was probably glad to leave Twelve behind, as I know he was glad to leave me behind. The Games and the war drove wedges between us, not least of all Peeta. It isn't fair to blame Peeta, though. Gale never accepted what I had to do to keep my family and myself alive. In his mind, all it takes to defy the odds is a righteous cause and a fiery spirit. Freedom or death. I chose survival. From then on, we were never the same. Thinking about it now, I realize Gale and Peeta have more in common than they'll ever admit: they both gave me love I could not return. From the bottom of my heart, I wish I could, but I was always terrible at lying – especially to myself.

Maybe I should have gone to the woods. A familiar lump forms in my throat. I can't stand here all night, but I don't want to go back to the house. Peeta won't be home for hours. Indecision keeps me rooted in the middle of the road until I have to step aside for a battered truck. The miners riding in the bed give me strange looks. A few of them have bags of fresh bread.

Of course – I'll go to Peeta. The bakery is close enough to reach before dark. I imagine the surprise on his face when I walk in unexpected. I'll go straight to the back and curl up on the flour sacks until he's ready to close. I won't have to interact, but I won't be alone with the phantom of Madge.

I leave the road and cut through a few alleys to shorten the distance. Another storm is definitely coming on. Even if we don't get more snow, temperatures will definitely plummet tonight. I hope Peeta doesn't decide to stay late again. The closer I get to the cluster of shops around the bakery, the more people I pass on the road. No one pays me much mind. They probably don't recognize me with my hair curtaining my face. Good. Ahead, my destination spills warm light and delicious smells out into the winter dusk. That's all that matters.

Footsteps crunch toward me, and I move instinctively aside. My eyes flick up for an instant to see a gaze locked on mine. The face looking back at me was burned into my memory in the first arena. I know her even in the sharp relief of the bakery's glow. I gasp and jump back, but the girl – face again obscured by shadow – barely spares me an odd glance before continuing on her way, making no move to confront me. Soon, she's disappeared into the gathering night, and the only eyes on me are those of bewildered bystanders. My cheeks burn. Clove was no more real than Madge, but my fear has never been worse. I clutch my coat around me and run to the safety of the bakery.


	3. Visitor

_Author note: I am sorry for the gap between updates. Thank you to everyone who took the time to leave feedback. Chapter 3 is short, but I hope a bit of action will make up for the two previous installments of exposition.  
_

**-3-**

**Visitor**

In the morning, I wake in a cold bed. It's late – almost ten – and Peeta is long gone. A shiver crawls up my spine, and I think of the warm flour sacks that gave me a few hours of sleep in the bakery. The respite never lasts.

Out of bed and down the stairs. I feel wrong. There was a dream last night, but I've lost the details. All that remains are foggy voices and a foreboding feeling. My nerves are on edge. Phantom pains dance through my stomach. Hoping some tea will calm it all, I sit on the kitchen counter and put water on to boil. The stove's heat loosens my tense neck and breathes life back into my limbs, but it doesn't banish the disembodied anxiety that clings to me like a spider web.

Before the kettle can shriek, I turn the burner off and set the tea to brew. Open all the curtains. Let in the gray light. Take a quilt from the couch and a cinnamon bun from the breadbox, and sit cross-legged at the table with my mug.

Outside, the wind hasn't lessened. It moans against the windows and spins snow into waves against trees and fences. I wish I could walk today. It looks so cold. It is cold. Maybe I'll go anyway and sink deeper into nothingness on the edge of the meadow. The drifts out there could cover me.

Madge is out there in the drifts.

_I'm cold, Katniss. Won't you keep me warm?_

A musical chime makes me jump. I'm bewildered before I realize that it's the doorbell. I only heard it once before; Effie rang it when she visited months ago. Otherwise, we never need it. Mom and Prim have keys, and Haymitch just pounds if the door is locked. So who could this be? I almost consign it to imagination along with the voice that just whispered in my ear.

It rings again.

What am I so afraid of?

The visitor is knocking by the time I reach the door. My hand rests on the knob. Turning it is a monumental effort.

I find myself staring into a pair of green eyes set under dark brows. Her hair is shorter now, but those are the same eyes that bored into mine when she told me how she would kill me. The same ones I saw last night outside the bakery. The teacup falls from my hand and shatters.

"Katniss," says Clove. "It's been a long time."

The metal taste of terror. Impossible. I try to wet my parched tongue, determined not to run from a ghost like a fool again. Here and now. Clove is dead. This isn't real, but for the life of me, she seems real – from the dusting of freckles on her cheeks to the fur-lined hood of her coat.

"You're dead."

"I was. For a little while." She smirks, and I break. The expression connects with the sadistic smile from that morning by the Cornucopia. My leaden body is jolted awake, and I run for my life.

"Wait!"

Down the hall, through the kitchen, to the closet by the back door. I haven't touched my bow for a year, but I know right where it is. Her footsteps pursue me as I nock an arrow. She appears in the kitchen and pulls up short. "Don't!"

My arm trembles. I'm out of shape. She takes one step, and I let it fly, an inch off target. She yells and rushes at me. Whip the bow and catch her above the eye. She slams into the refrigerator and staggers back, holding her temple.

"Nnnnn… Not now…"

In my confusion, I miss my chance to reload and shoot her. She's already retreating down the hall, leaning on the wall for support. I didn't hit her that hard. I pursue her to the living room where she runs out of wall and stumbles against the couch, clutching her head. Her eyebrow is split where the bow struck her. She thrusts her hand into her coat, but instead of the knife I expect, she drags out a medicine bottle, wrenches off the cap, and gulps a pill. Fearing a feint, I approach slowly with arrow ready. She holds her hand up to me and sinks to her knees.

This isn't right. Clove doesn't surrender. A thousand questions spin through my head, but only one escapes: "What's wrong with you?"

She points to her head.

_You know, it's too bad you couldn't help your little friend. That little girl. What was her name again? Rue? Well, we killed her._

My chance for revenge…

Thresh raising a rock.

Clove didn't kill Rue. I squint against the flashback. Here and now. Whatever this is, it's not the Games. My surroundings surface above the instinct to fight. We aren't in the arena. Not the arena. Real or vision, she's defenseless. Rue wouldn't want me to be an executioner. I lower the bow. She lets out a breath and shuts her eyes, and neither of us moves for an eternity.

Finally, my thoughts start to move again. "Why are you here?" I ask. "How are you here?"

"Why? Wanted to see you," she slurs. "How? Not so simple."

Part of me doubts this is happening at all. She's just a shadow brought to life in my mind. I watched her die years ago, but now she's bleeding on my couch and down her white coat. The iron smell is in my nose.

She climbs carefully to her feet. "I can explain. Up to you if you want to listen, but it's the least you can do after fucking up my face."

"You attacked me."

"Self defense. Should I stay? Or did I come all the way to this coal pit for nothing?"

I want her to leave, but also to explain. If she is a vision, she will fade soon. If she is really standing here after I watched her fall dead to the ground, then I want to know how.

I have to know.

"Stay."


	4. Fault

**-4-**

**Fault**

She sits across the table from me, holding a bag of snow to her face.

She.

Clove.

Nearly half an hour passed in silence while she nursed her gash and I cleaned the blood from the cushions. Now when I try to speak, I falter. When she tries…

She hasn't tried.

I feel her eyes on me, though I look at my hands on the table. Each time I glance up, I expect her to vanish, but she's always there.

Her voice startles me. "I can see the questions in your head. Plan on voicing them?"

I raise my eyes to meet hers. "Is this real?"

"This stings like hell, so I'm going with yes." She sighs. "I guess I owe you that explanation."

I barely nod.

She adjusts the snow bag on her eyebrow. "The last thing I remember is fighting with you. It's weird. I remember our positions, every word I said, the heat on my back… then nothing. I don't remember _him _at all. I watched the tapes – saw what happened – but my memory cuts out until I woke up. At least that's what I call it. I could think before my eyes worked – like floating in darkness surrounded by voices and pain. Damn, the pain. It was how I knew I was alive."

"That's… terrible."

"It's what happens when your skull caves in. Never really goes away. Some days are worse than others, and then there are the bad attacks."

"I set it off by hitting you."

"Don't be too proud of yourself. Blood pressure sets it off. Stress, exercise, or no reason at all. Sucks," she snorts. "But beating me in the face didn't help."

I feel bad.

Guilty.

I shouldn't.

"Anyway," she continues, "I learned I was part of a project run by Snow and his doctors. They revived me from some kind of stasis, but I got the hell out before they were done fixing my brain."

"Revived? Why? Were there others?"

"Not that I ever saw or heard." She studies me. "You're thinking of the little girl from Eleven, aren't you? Doubtful. Your friend would be a stupid choice for the job I was supposed to do."

"Which was…?"  
"Stop the Mockingjay." She grins and laughs at my expression. "Relax. I had other ideas from the start. Snow wanted me to be his personal assassin, but he made the mistake of thinking I'd do his bidding. I played along. Answered questions. Took the sedations and the restraints…" She raps her fingernails on the tabletop. "Finally, we got to physical conditioning. Oh, that felt good. My hands remembered their training. All the years of practice." Her tongue works against her teeth. "When I was strong enough, and the nurse came to give me my nightly shots, I got my fingers around a syringe and put it right through his eye."

I swallow the image she just gave me. "And then just walked out?"

"Wasn't that simple. I had to slit a few throats, but it was a medlab, not a prison. I'm sure it would have been harder if not for your war going on in the background."

"It wasn't my war."

"Whatever. Getting out was easier than staying out once news of my escape got back to Snow. My skills gave me freedom, and then helped me survive on the streets, in the wild, anywhere I had to go to get away from peacekeepers and bounty hunters."

"How long did you live that way?"

"Until you took the Capitol."

"Stop saying it was all me."

"What's your problem? Snow brought me back to stop you, not the rebels. You. Like it or not, it was your war. You started it with those berries, which was fucking brilliant, by the way. See, we're not so different. We're both survivors, in more ways than one."

"You're wrong!" Panic rises in my chest. "I am nothing like you, and you need to go."

"What? You told me to stay."

"I shouldn't have." It comes out like a sob.

She looks at me in angry disbelief. "I came all the way from goddamn District Two, and you're telling me to leave? I wanted to see you! I came here – _came here – _to see you! I bet my ass that's more than any of your revolutionary friends have done. Isn't it?"

"Out! Get out!"

"Fine! Sit here alone! The fuck do I care?" She stands up and throws the snow bag wetly into the sink. "But I can only afford nonstop passage home, and I can't get it for another week. So I'm stuck at the inn if you change your mind. Mockingjay." She sneers and stalks out of the kitchen.

The front door slams.

I am rooted to the chair, cracked and leaking and trembling. Here and now means nothing, even if the ghost is gone. Her voice rings in my ears. My fault. All my fault. Let me be alone. It is no more than I deserve. The death, the pain, the suffering washes over me until I drown.

* * *

When Peeta comes home, he shakes me awake and interrogates me about the arrow. The teacup shards I missed by the door. My scattered state of mind.

I lie.

I say I thought about hunting, and tried to draw the bow just to test my strength. Fingers slipped. Didn't go hunting. And I just dropped my cup this morning and missed a few pieces, okay? Why do you have to make a scene about it just leave me alone I'mtiredandIwanttogotobed!

I cry. He holds me. I pretend it's a comfort.

I don't come close to sleeping until dawn breaks the next morning.


	5. Alone

**-5-**

**Alone**

A day blandly passes, and another sleepless night. I dream of Clove, but not of our death struggle. Just her, sitting next to me and studying me with her green eyes.

Two days pass. Peeta's been strange around me. I don't think he believes my lie. We don't talk. Or, I don't talk to him. I don't need the questions.

On the third morning, the phone rings. It's Prim. "Katniss? Oh, good. I worried you'd be out."

"I'm here."

"I need a favor." She hesitates. "Mom's order of antibiotics was late. It's at the depot now. Could you, um… do you think you could pick it up for us?"

I chew my lip.

"Katniss?"

"Yeah." I swallow. "Yeah, I can do that."

"Thank you! I hate to rush you, but we're running low, and-"

"I'll be there. Don't worry." So easy to say now.

She hangs up, and I don't move for a few minutes. Gathering dusk won't hide me this time. The streets will be crowded, the shops busy. But Prim needs me, and the bakery will be close by.

So will the inn.

But Prim needs me.

The walk through town is grueling. I take all the shortcuts and alleys I know. Even with my hood up, people recognize me and watch me pass. I pretend they don't exist. I have one destination, one goal. Then I'll flee to the meadow where no eyes can find me.

The depot is awash with people. Mom's antibiotics weren't the only things late in arriving. I wait my turn in line, doing my best not to meet anyone's eyes. Part of me is always looking out for Clove. If she approached me in this crowd, I wouldn't have time to react.

The kindly woman behind the counter doesn't even ask for identification. She fetches two boxes bearing Mom's name and tells me to wish her well. The medicine is heavy. I'm glad it isn't far to the clinic. I resist the need to stop and rest. That's a chance for someone to try and converse.

At the clinic, I go in the back door. Prim's face lights up when she sees me. "You made it! Thank you so much." She hugs me.

Over her shoulder, I look for Mom. She must be busy with patients, and that's fine. Last time we talked, we fought. It's been a while.

"Really, thank you," she says. "I know it wasn't easy for you."

I want to be annoyed by that, she's right. "You needed me."

She smiles. "Why don't you come over for dinner tonight?"

"I – um – I guess. Shouldn't you ask Mom?"

"You don't need permission. She misses you. And so do I." She thanks me again after I agree, and I go on my way. Talking to Prim alleviated the worst of my anxiety, so I decide to stop at the bakery and see Peeta on the way home. There's only one other customer talking animatedly with him at the counter. She turns when the door squeaks.

"Katniss!" A much-changed Delly Cartwright runs to me and gives me the most unexpected hug of my life. "I haven't seen you in forever! How are you?"

"Still alive," I stammer.

"She laughs as if I'm joking. "I'm so happy to see you. Peeta says you spend most days hiding at home."

"Oh. Does he?" Again, I can't be annoyed, because it's true. "You, um… You look good."

"Thanks!" She beams. "I feel good. At least something came from eating nothing but mush in District Thirteen."

"You find more bright sides than anyone I know," says Peeta.

"That's what you have to do." She looks between us. "I won't keep you any longer. It was great to see you, Katniss. Take care. Stop by the Old Oak and say hi sometime." She's out the door before I can ask what she meant.

Peeta's attention returns to me. "Two visits from you in one week? I must have done something right."

"I was passing through. Errand for Mom and Prim. Does Delly come in here much?"

"She drops in most days."

"You never mentioned her."

He shrugs. "Guess I never thought it was worth mentioning. She works at the Old Oak Inn down the street. Got her brother a job there, too, to keep him out of the mines. I think he's still too young for work at all, but I guess they need to make ends meet somehow."

My thoughts drift to the inn. Someone else waits for me there. Or not. Part of me is convinced Clove never existed at all, as if the story I repeat to Peeta is becoming reality. I hadn't considered actually going to the inn, but now… it may be the only way to find out if what happened three days ago was real.

"Um. I should probably get going."

"Oh." He looks as surprised as he did when I walked in. "Okay. You going to the meadow?"

"For a while."

"Thanks for coming. Seeing you brightens the day."

"Prim asked me to come over for dinner, so if you want, you can meet me there when you close."

I know that expression – the ecstatic, hopeful one he gets when I show signs of normalcy. "See you there. I love you."  
"I love you too."

I don't go to the meadow. The short distance to the inn feels like miles. My stomach is tight and my mouth dry. A sign swings under the awning: _Old Oak Inn &amp; Tavern. _This is it, then. A bell tinkles when I push open the door. The interior is all bare floors and low lighting, but it's clean and calming. Food smells drift in from the bar. Footsteps approach, and Delly emerges from a back room. "Hey! Didn't expect to see you again so soon. Can I get something for you? Plenty of open tables right now."

"Um. Actually, I'm looking for someone." I try to sound sure of myself. "A girl, about our age. Dark hair down to her shoulders?"

"Hmm. I think I know who you mean." She flips through a ledger. "You must know her? I never saw her around before. Pretty serious about her privacy, and always looking over her shoulder." She lowers her voice to a whisper. "I think she might have gotten mugged or… or something. I hope she's not in trouble. Is she a friend of yours?"

So it is her. "Yeah… She, uh, told me to come by."

"Here." She points to a ledger entry. "Room 209."

I consider telling her to check for a body if I don't come back down, but I just thank her and walk up the creaking stairs. I shouldn't be doing this. I should leave it be and go home, go to my meadow, go back to Peeta. But now that I'm here in this place with my memories confirmed, I feel a pull. My feet take me forward.

206, 207, 208. There aren't many rooms in the Old Oak. 209 sits in the corner of the second floor. Through the hallway window I can see the bakery, but the world outside – and anyone who could help me – feels miles away. At least it's quiet. Delly will hear me if I scream. I raise my hand, hold my breath, and knock.

Feet shuffle inside and stop on the other side of the door. There's no peephole to see me through. "Who's there?"

It's my last chance to run, but I'm rooted. "It's me."

A lock clicks. The door opens, and there stands Clove in loose pants and a sweater that's too big for her. It offsets the harshness of the gash in her eyebrow. "I didn't think you'd come."

"Should I go?"

"No." We stare at each other until she walks back into the room, leaving the door open. I follow her and shut it behind me. The inn's few homey decorations clash with a medicine bottle and a belt full of knives on the writing desk. Her white coat – cleaned of blood – hangs on the back of the chair that she spins around and straddles. "Throw your jacket anywhere."

I forgot I was wearing it. I sit on the unmade bed and she studies me just like in the dream. Those eyes, those green eyes. The left one is still a little swollen.

"I hope that doesn't hurt too much." It's all I can think to say.

"I've had worse. In a few weeks, it'll be a badass scar. I like it." She chuckles at my expression. "So what did Loverboy say when you told him I came around?"

"I didn't tell him."

"Hm. I'm flattered, I think. How'd you pass off the arrow in the wall?"

"Slipped stringing the bow."

She laughs. "And he bought it?"

"I don't think so. No."

"What's the deal with you two? You don't have to keep up the act anymore."

"It's not an act."

"Hah. Right. You're lucky those Capitol idiots bought it. None of us ever did."

_None of us. _Heat rushes to my palms. "I don't want to talk about the Games."

"It's true. I could always tell you weren't into him. Remember, I watched the videos. Half the time, you looked rigid as a board. The rest, you looked so perfectly in love that it can't be anything but an act. But he was genuine. All about you. Still is. That dynamic was entertaining."

"Shut up! I didn't come here to _entertain_ you."

Something new crosses her face. She doesn't apologize, but rests her chin on her hands and changes tack. "Why _did_ you come here? I mean, you threw me out a few days ago. Now you're looking for me?"

"I needed to know if you were real or not."

"If I was real or not?" I know her smirk is meant to needle me, and I hate it, but it fits her face perfectly. "That feeling sucks, doesn't it? Wondering if you can trust yourself. It's like you're losing your mind piece by piece."

I nod slowly.

"And you think it'll get better with time, but it never does. Finally, you can't take it anymore, and the only way forward is to face the demons head-on."

"Is that why you're here?"

"Are you afraid of me?"

If that was meant to throw me off, it worked. I don't know what she wants to hear. "Yes," I admit.

"Don't be. I'm not going to kill you."

"In my nightmares, you try."

"I bet." She's silent for a moment. "In my nightmares, I'm on the run again. They never seem to catch me, but I know they're searching. Sometimes it's a forest, sometimes an endless, empty plain. All I can do is run, because they're coming to take me back to that room."

"Peacekeepers?"

"Hell if I know. Someone. Something. Doesn't matter. But the worst ones are when I'm standing in front of whole groups of people. Young, old, kids… A voice tells me to kill, and I do. I see myself claiming life after life, and they never fight back. They just stand there! And when it's over I wake up feeling… shocked. Sick. Does that sound stupid?"

"It's not stupid. Surprising, but not stupid."

"Why surprising?"  
"You're saying all this, and I want to believe you, but… I only knew you as my enemy. The girl who wanted to rip me apart."

"That's all I let you know! You didn't see me, just my tactics. You chose appealing to the crowd; I chose being the best killer. Everyone looks at tributes like me and assumed we played the Games for glory. For the love of the slaughter. Some did, sure, but not all. The rest of us wondered why the rest of you didn't prepare for the chance to provide for your people. District Twelve isn't the only place where kids can starve in the streets. Where winter is hell if you have no shelter. No medicine. We tried to make sure that didn't happen to us. _I _tried to make sure, but I failed. Instead, you won, and started a war that consumed everyone I fought for. Parents, two brothers, girlfriend. All dead. Killed in raids while I was in hiding."

My stomach drops as I think of the fighting in District Two. "Clove… I'm so sorry."

"I could hate you. Very easily," she continues. "I could blame you for everything, but you didn't give the orders. You didn't drop the bombs. And by some twist of fate, you're the only one I have left from my old life."

"I… I can't be. You must have had others. Friends?"

"Do I seem like a good friend to you? There was one person outside my family. Just one, and she's gone. I'm alone. That's my demon, Katniss Everdeen. I am alone in a world that has no place for me."

Maybe it's how thin her voice became. Maybe it's her disheveled hair, or the sweater sleeves swallowing her hands. For just a beat she looks as fragile as I feel after waking from a haunted night. In her eyes I see ash and grief and the darkness of despair. Then it's gone. Hardness returns to her features and she fixes her gaze on me, but this time I meet it without flinching away. "You're not alone," I tell her. "Not anymore."


	6. Light

_A/N: Thank you for all of your support! I am sorry for the slow updates. It is hard to find time to write around work and life, but your favorites and follows keep me coming back. I love reading reviews. It's an amazing feeling when someone likes my writing enough to leave even a few words in reply. I hope you all enjoy this new chapter. _

**-6-**

**Light**

"You're not alone. Not anymore."

"Don't say things you don't mean."

"I do mean it." As long as I keep talking, I won't dwell on the belt of knives so close on the desk. "I've been alone a long time too."

"I noticed. You're a bit of a recluse. So far, I've only seen you sitting in a field, out at night with your hood up to hide your face, and now. Not social behavior."

"It _was_ you by the bakery! And when did you see me in the meadow?" I remember with a shock the feeling of being watched from the trees.

"I came here to find you, so I found you."

She found my meadow, my sanctuary. Silence stretches until she leaves the chair and sits with me on the bed, still a safe distance away, and focuses intently on the window. Are we both out of things to say already? She brushes a strand of hair from her face.

"What made you change your look?" I try.

"You mean this?" She bats at the ends tickling her neck. "Didn't have a choice. They chopped it off when they went digging inside my head. I woke up with hardly any left, and it's been growing back ever since."

"Oh." Not what I expected to hear. "For whatever it's worth, I like it."

Incredulous eyes turn to me. "You're complimenting my hair?"

"Should I not?"

"It's just surreal. Normal conversation with you. I always wondered what it would be like." She turns back to the window. Pale light shines on her face, making her freckles stand out and her green eyes shine. I can't look away before she catches me staring, but she seems more bemused than angry. "Yes?"

"I – uh – nothing."

She quirks her uninjured brow. "Sure. Still trying to decide if I'm real or not?"

"No."

"Then what? You have questions on your mind."

"Um. You mentioned a girlfriend."

"Straight for the heart. Should have known."

"Sorry. I'd like to hear about her." _Instead of what you and the other Careers thought of Peeta and me._ "You don't have to…"

"No, it's fine." With a sigh, she stretches across the bed and takes a locket from the nightstand. When she opens it, a bright-eyed blonde stares serenely out at me. "Shay. Her name was Shay."

"She's gorgeous."

"Don't let it fool you. She was fierce. We met as sparring partners. First time we were matched up, she put me flat on my back inside a minute. That's not good when you have a reputation to maintain. We fought again, and I lost even faster."

"That's what attracted you to her?"

"Partly. It's why I was obsessed with her at first. Even the boys were leery of me, but she had no fear. We weren't paired together again for weeks, but I'd see her around, and she'd give me these looks. Infuriating, _playful_ looks, like little challenges. So. One night I ran into her taking a shortcut home from the market. No one else around. It was time to win my pride back." Her eyes haven't left the picture. "I came at her. Pulled a knife to try and scare her. She didn't even flinch – just grabbed my wrist and twisted my arm so I was bent over backward and looking up at her. Before I could fight back…"

"What happened?"

"…she kissed me. First time anyone had. I didn't know what to do, what to say. I didn't know that's what all those _looks _meant. It just happened, and I was so – so stunned. I tried to act pissed, because I knew I should be, but she saw right through me. Always had, I guess."

It's funny to think of Clove wearing a shocked face, but inside I feel a twinge of jealousy. My past is devoid of such stories. "What then? Did you start… seeing each other?"

"Slowly. I was so out of my element that it took me a while to come to terms with how I felt. It seems stupid now. I like girls – so what? Go to hell if you have a problem. Unfortunately, it's not that simple when her parents were the ones with the problem. They knew we were friends, but nothing more. Telling them was the only thing she was ever afraid of." She replaces the locket on the table. "What do _you_ think about it?"

"You're asking me?" I falter. "I never knew anyone like that, honestly. Does it happen enough in District Two for people to dislike it?"

"That's the thing – it doesn't happen much anywhere but the Capitol, so to some, it's wrong. Doesn't matter where you're from; there are lots of cowards who fear any challenge to their precious little worlds." She fixes her stare on me. "You never answered me."

Someone comes to mind who I had fonder feelings for than Peeta – and it isn't Gale. Clove doesn't need to know that. "I think love is love."

"Huh. Don't get sappy with me." But the little twitch of her lips isn't a smirk. It's real. "At least you don't think like them. Not that I'd be devastated if you did, but we might as well understand each other right from the start."

"We might as well." I try to memorize every detail of her lingering smile.

We pass the time this way, sometimes talking, sometimes not. She tells me about her brothers and how she was teaching them to throw like her. "They were starting to get it. Whenever they got one to stick perfectly – you know, point first with the blade straight in – oh, you never saw kids more excited. But it was still all fun for them. Not life and death yet. I always admired what you did for your sister, because I would have done the same for them in an instant. Cato tried to say it was all a stunt to draw sponsors, just like everything between you and Peeta."

It was too much to hope to avoid the Games altogether. Adrenaline starts to crawl through my stomach. "Did he?"

"Yeah. But I knew at least your volunteering wasn't bullshit."

"I wasn't even thinking. All that mattered was saving her."

"It must be a great feeling to lay down your life for someone you care for."

"Where did you get that idea? It's not a great feeling – it's going off to die! The only thing worse would have been watching _her_ go off to die. Why do we have to talk about this?"

"Sorry. It's just that the Games shaped our lives. Hard to understand each other if we try to ignore that."

"I want to ignore it. I want to forget!"

"We can't forget. If everyone forgets, it could all happen again."

"I didn't say everyone. I said me. Just me!" The panic rises into my throat. "Haven't I earned that?"

She sits up. "You want to hide. You've _been _hiding. Where has it gotten you?"

Fingers dig into palms. Why did I come here? What was I thinking?

"This isn't you." I look up into gleaming eyes. "I should have said this when I first came around, but I was angry and in pain, and you know how it goes… But this isn't you. This is someone else – someone dominated by fear. You aren't that person."

"Then you don't know me very well."

"I know who you used to be," she says. "And I'm going to help you find her again. The Mockingjay shouldn't be –"

"Don't. Call. Me. That."

"-shouldn't be so scared of memories and dreams."

"What about you?" I demand. "You said you have nightmares too!"

"Of course I do. But they're just nightmares. I wake up, and I go on living." She hasn't raised her voice, but there's fire in it. "Hell, you have it better than I do – your brain's not broken. Wake up, and go on living."

Wake up and go on living. Here and now. If only any of it were so simple. She doesn't understand. "I have to go."

"I think that's a lie."

I get up and snatch my coat.

"Katniss."

"What?"

"Don't run. Please."

"I have to go," I repeat. "I'll… I'll come back tomorrow. Okay?"

She studies me. "I'll hold you to that."

"Fine." I go for the door.

"Katniss."

"What?!"

"Thanks for coming. It was good to have company."

Can't imagine the company was very good. I nod. "See you."

I shut the door and pause for a moment to collect and calm myself. The light from the hallway window is fading. Outside it looks cold. There's no point in shivering all the way back to my house. I'll go right to Mom and Prim's. Their place is smaller, but it's comforting. Everything reminds me of Prim, and that chases the shadows away.

Downstairs, Delly is gone from the reception desk. I hate saying I'm glad for that, but I am. It's better that she not ask any more questions about the girl in room 209.

* * *

Buttercup is thoroughly disgruntled when I interrupt his nap. He hisses at me as I take off my coat and boots.

"Shut up and go back to sleep." I ignore his dirty looks and light the fireplace. Despite our rocky relationship, he's a living thing to talk to, but one who won't expect a real conversation. I can appreciate that. "Prim will be home soon." And then I should tell her. Clove isn't subtle. If it gets out that I saw her, I want Prim to hear it from me first. I don't want to lose her trust, and of all people, I know she will keep it quiet.

It's dark outside when I finally hear voices at the door, but I have the house welcoming and bright. Mom looks shocked when she comes in. "Oh – Katniss! What are you doing here?"

She doesn't know? "Prim asked…"

"I told her to come for dinner." Prim is obviously pleased with herself. "Thought it would make a nice surprise."

"Well. I could get used to coming home to a warm house. Thank you." Mom hugs me. "I miss you when you stay away so long." I brace myself for an uncomfortable conversation, but she makes no mention of our last argument – just smiles sadly and teases my hair off my shoulders. "Come on. You must be hungry."

She heads into the kitchen, but I hang back with Prim.

"I need to talk to you later. Alone."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Just… new."

"Is it about Peeta?"

"No. And I don't want him to know. At least not yet."

"Okay…"

Mom's voice drifts in to us. "Prim, can you help me?"

"Coming." We go in, and she tells me to sit.

"I can give a hand too."

"Oh, no, no!" says Mom. "You just relax and keep us company. We'll take care of everything."

* * *

When we finish eating, I insist on helping to clean up. In those twenty minutes, I feel closer to the two of them than I have since the Games tore my life apart. It's possible – just barely possible – to forget that the last three years ever happened. We're a family again.

The feeling persists as we head into the living room to sit by the fire together. I curl up on the couch and listen to them talk quietly over Buttercup's purring. Soon enough, Mom nods off. My eyes start to droop too, but then Prim appears in front of my face.

"Hey," she whispers. "You can't go to sleep until you tell me the news."

"Mm. Is she asleep?"

"Yep. Spill."

I should have thought more carefully about how I'd break this. I'm not even certain why I'm telling her. "I met someone today. Or I guess, met _with _someone. She's different from when I first knew her. At least, I think she is."

"She? Who is it?"

I almost lie and say Delly. Almost. "Well. Do you remember a girl? From the Games?" I'm glad we're whispering. Otherwise, my voice would shake. "From District Two?"

"I remember girls from lots of Games," she says. Her face darkens. "What's her name?"

"Clove."

"Clove? The one who tried to kill you?"

I nod.

"But – she's dead!"

"No. It's a long story, but no. She came here looking for me."

"Have you lost your mind?!"

"Shh! I don't think she wants to hurt me."

"Of course she does! She's a murderer, Katniss…" She pulls at her pigtails. "She wouldn't suddenly be your friend. I can't lose you. Not after all this."

"I was afraid of that at first too, but she had chances to kill me if she wanted to. I'm still here."

"I don't like it. I don't like it!" She shakes her head. "Someone must have sent her. Is she still here?"

"Yes."

"Don't go back. Please." She grabs my hand. "Promise me you won't."

"I…" A knock at the door cuts me off. Peeta must be here. "Not a word to him."

"Promise me!"

"Fine! I promise. But not a word."

She gets up slowly with a glare that disappears by the time she lets Peeta in. Mom wakes up too. The moment is over, and I lied to my sister. It hurts, but she wanted me to make a promise I couldn't keep. Maybe I shouldn't have told her after all. Shouldn't have burdened her with the worry.

I say goodbye to Mom and thank her. Prim gives me a look over her shoulder, but she kept my secret. For now.

As we walk home, Peeta tells me I seem excited. That's not how I'd describe the feeling inside me, but I just shrug and give him a little smile. "It was a good night."

We're passing by the inn. A lamp glows in the corner room.


	7. Touch

**-7-**

**Touch**

No wind disturbs the meadow today. I sit in my little hollow beneath the tree and watch the late morning sun sparkled on the snow. Chickadees chatter above me, and when they suddenly stop an empty silence hangs in the air. Something's nearby, I think a moment before I hear the muffled footsteps.

"Hey," says Clove, grinning when I bristle and twist around. "Relax. Just me." She plops down beside me. "Back out here again, huh?"

"How did you find me?"

"You weren't home, so I poked around until I found footprints. You didn't exactly hide your trail."

"I told you I would come to see you."

"Eh, well, I got impatient." She looks around and sighs. "So what do you do here?"

"Nothing."

"Hm. Exciting."

I shoot her a glare. "It's peaceful."

"I get it. You want to get away from everyone."

_And you are making that very difficult._

"I have a place like this too, back home," she continues. "But I practice there – I don't just sit. Maybe I can show you someday." She pauses for a moment. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning. Never thought I'd actually be sad to leave."

Right. She came to see me, and didn't get to do that very much. "I'm sorry about yesterday. And the first time you came by."

"Don't worry about it. But… I'd like to enjoy today with you. Think we can do that?"

I nod, still looking out across the white expanse.

"Thanks." She pulls her hood up. "It is really peaceful here. Quiet. Easy on the head. Do other people come out here when the weather gets warmer?"

"Yes. Then I just go deeper into the woods." She laughs, and I add, "There's a glen in there with a little pond where I go swimming. Maybe I can show_ you_ someday."

"Why don't we go now?"

"Now? It's frozen."

"Not to swim – _obviously _– but we're here, and who knows when someday will be for either of us. I'd love to see into the secret life of Katniss Everdeen."

I roll my eyes. "Come on." As we walk through the frosted forest, I hope I won't regret bringing an outsider to my nearest equivalent of hallowed ground. But it's hard to claim it as my own anymore. Only the winter is keeping other people out of the woods.

Prim's words from last night return to me. Easy enough to dismiss at the time, it's harder now that no one on the planet knows where I am or whom I'm with. If Clove wanted to dispose of me, this is the time and place to do it. My adrenaline pricks.

"You've been quiet," she says. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just a lot of memories in these woods."

"Good or bad?"

"Good."

"Like…?" When I don't answer, she says, "I see. So I can't enter the _secret_ secret life yet." I give her a what-are-you-talking-about look, and she smirks. "That's okay. I can wait."

The pond is indeed frozen over, ringed by dead reeds and a dusting of snow. The spring that feeds it is choked with ice too, but I can see a slow trickle beneath the surface. Underneath it all, the plants of my namesake sleep in the mud.

"This is it."

"Nice." Clove climbs onto the rock at the water's edge. I used to sun myself there after a swim. She brushes snow from the spot beside her. "Coming?"

I step up carefully. There's hardly any space between us, and it would be easy to fall.

"Are you this tense with everyone?" she asks. "Or just me?"

"Um…"

"Because you act like it's everyone, but then sometimes I get the feeling you're a special kind of tense with me."

"What does that mean?"

"You tell me. If I had to guess, you're still afraid of me."

"I can't put aside the past like you can. I can't – I can't wake up and go on living. You haunted my nightmares, and now… now you're here. With me, in my sacred place. In my _secret life._"

"I won't hurt you," she insists. "Haven't you realized that by now?"

"It's one thing to hear it, and another to accept it. Really accept it, so that my heart doesn't start racing whenever I see you."

"Fear isn't the only feeling that makes hearts race."

_"What?"_

"What yourself. Shouldn't you be happy to see a friend?"

I stutter. "Are we friends?"

"Why not? I can't imagine you'd bring just anyone here."

She's right. Only my father, Prim, and Gale before her. And Madge.

"Right now, you're the closest thing I have to a friend," she says with her eyes trained on the ice.

"You have nobody back home?"

"We've been over this," she sighs. "I don't want to go back."

"Then don't."

"And do what? Live in a rented room on money I don't have? Crash with you and Loverboy?" She snorts. "At least in District Two the roof over my head is mine. It's not much, but it's mine. I can't stay here."

"We can still talk," I offer. "You can write, can't you?"

"Yeah." Her lips twitch with a thoughtful smile. "Yeah, I can. And I will."

We stay there by the pond until she asks if we can go back to town. I give her and her furry coat a look. "You can't be cold. Is it really that boring?"

"No. Not with you, anyway. I'm just hungry. No breakfast."

_Not with you, anyway._ Hearing that puts a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach that persists all the way back to civilization. She suggests eating at the inn where she gets free meals with her stay. Delly is the only problem. It's enough that she knows I went up to room 209; she doesn't need to see us having lunch together. There isn't much of an alternative, though. The old Hob is far too busy to avoid attention and questions, questions, questions. _Who's your friend? How do you know here? Where's she from?_ So I accept the lesser risk.

The tavern at the Old Oak is warm and smells of cider and sharp smoke. Clove finds us a little table in the corner away from the miners and builders on lunch breaks. I look around for Delly; she wasn't the one who greeted us at the door. Maybe she's at the bakery with Peeta, since apparently she drops by so often.

A brunette waitress, who can't be older than fifteen, bounces up to us with a smitten smile. "Hi Katniss!"

"Hi." I've never seen her before in my life, but of course she knows me.

"Clare! You know Katniss?"

"We go way back," replies Clove, watching me mischievously. "I'll have my usual."

"Um. Same for me," I say helplessly, hoping I like whatever her usual happens to be.

"Sure! It'll be right out." She hurries away, probably to tell everyone in the kitchen that Katniss Everdeen is here with…

"Clare?" I raise my eyebrows.

"Shut up," she huffs. "You didn't think I'd come here under my real name, did you?"

"I guess?"  
"Unlike you, I don't get the celebrity treatment everywhere I go. Must be nice."

"Oh yeah. Can't you tell how much I love it?"

"At least no one insists you're dead and impersonating yourself for money."

That sounds horrible enough. I'm about to reply when I see Delly in the doorway, looking at us with keen interest. Shit. She waves when she catches my eye, but I can see her mind churning, wondering who this girl is and why I've so suddenly come out of isolation for her.

Clove follows my eyes. "Admirer?"

"Old friend."

"Yech. She's insufferable. All bubbly and friendly – and nosy. So many questions every time she sees me."

"Maybe you should fill me in on Clare's history so I don't blow your cover."

"It's not hard, and not far from reality. We met in District Two during the war and stayed in touch afterward. I was just so taken by the strength of beauty of the girl on fire." She flutters her eyelashes.

"That is miles from reality."

"Eh. Bubbles doesn't know that."

"Her name's Delly."

"I like Bubbles better."

I just shake my head, turning over in my mind the story she created for herself and feeling like there might be something she's not telling me.

Our lunch is mostly quiet after that. It turns out Clove's usual is rabbit stew – one of my favorites. The meat isn't as fresh as when Prim made it the same day with my kills, but this makes up for it with carrots and potatoes and onions. The waitress doesn't charge me for mine despite my insistence, so all the way up to her room afterward, Clove makes celebrity jokes and jabs until I'm thoroughly red in the face. I lose my patience when she holds the door for me and calls me 'your royal highness.' "Enough! You know I hate all of that!"

"I know." She shuts the door with a chuckle. "I just like watching you get mad."

"Thanks so much."

"Because it's the only way to get the fire back in your eyes. You know, since you _are_ the-"

"Don't even say it."

"Girl. On. Fire." There's that infuriating smirk.

Ignore it. Ignore it. "Okay, I entertained you for a while. What else do you want to do?"

She hangs her coat and sits on the bed. "I could probably think of a few things. Come here. Stay a while."

"Um. Here?"

"Yeah. It was nice yesterday with nobody to bother us."

I sit beside her as she leans over and closes the thin curtains. "You know, I didn't make up everything for Clare," she says. "You always impressed me."

"Uh-huh, with my strength and beauty?"

"Yes."

"You… sound serious."

"I am."

She can't be. What is this? "I don't understand."

"Do I have to spell it out? I watched you take your sister's place, then the first time I saw you in that flaming black dress… You made an impression. I'd be lying if I said I never thought about you."

"What about Shay?" My voice quavers.

"Come on. Just because you're with one person doesn't mean you stop noticing others."

"Noticing? No. Do not push this."

"Believe me…" She gets up on her knees and leans closer to me until we're inches apart. "…I'd like nothing more than to push it." Her hand slides slowly up my thigh, and there's lightning in my stomach and no air in my lungs. I manage a strangled protest and nearly fall off the bed.

"No! No-no-no, I can't – do that!"

"Katniss…"

"NO!" I snatch my coat and trip over myself.

"Don't run from me again! Katniss!"

I throw the door shut behind me and run down the hall, down the stairs, ignoring her voice calling my name. I don't even see if Delly is around to witness my flight. I'm gone, gone, gone, and soon Clove will be too, and I will drag my life back onto the rails it jumped a week ago.


	8. Friends

**-8-**

**Friends**

A week passes without so much as a glimpse of the sun. I don't leave the house. Peeta and Prim both notice my sudden reversion, but I have nothing to say. Prim only pushes once, and I reply, "She's gone," and that's enough for her. She hugs me, says it's best this way, and that she's always here if I want to talk.

How could I begin to tell her what happened? How can I ask whether I should have reacted as I did? Whether I should have stayed? Should have tried? I wish Cinna were here. He would listen and understand and say comforting words in that way of his that always calmed my heart. I need someone to calm my heart because Clove is in my head, and my heart doesn't know if she should be or not.

Then one morning, a letter comes for me. Most of our mail is addressed to Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen, or mistakenly, Peeta and Katniss Mellark. Some are to "The Mockingjay." I don't open those. This one is just to me. Just Katniss Everdeen. The postal seal is from District Two. Maybe Gale – but no. That's not his careless handwriting. I know who sent this.

I sit at the table and open the envelope like a live grenade. A single paper is inside, folded twice over. One side is covered in square, spiny letters. It fits her. I take a steadying breath and read:

_Katniss,_

_I hope you read this when it gets to you. I'd call but there aren't many phones in 2 that connect all the way to 12 and I wouldn't know how to say what I have to say if you even let me talk. I'm sorry. I'm pushy and I take what I want and that's what I tried to do. It was okay with Shay but you're not her. You're not like me and I knew that and I should have acted different. Maybe I __misjuged__ misjudged you completely and you don't share my feelings. It's fine if you don't. I still want to be friends and know you better. You don't have to decide what you want right now. I mean if there's any question. I know you have __Lov__ Peeta too even though I didn't think you actually wanted him. Maybe I was wrong. I'm sorry. I said I'm no good at talking. Please write back Katniss. It sucks here without you._

_Clove_

I read it again, then again. _Please write back._ What do I do? Throw it in the fire and pretend it never reached me? I should. I know I should. I'm here, and she's in Two, and that's the way it should be. That's what's best for Peeta and Prim and Mom.

But what's best for me?

My stomach churns at the thought of her, but not with raw fear. It's subtler – fear of admitting that some part of me, blocked in the moment by the shock and panic, felt the jolt of passion in Clove's touch. The jolt I haven't felt since Madge, that even then I was reluctant to dwell on. What could I set in motion by dwelling now? By replying?

I get up and pace. Make tea. Set it on the counter without drinking. Prowl through the house until I find myself back in the kitchen, staring down at the letter. I know what I'm going to do. I grab it and run up to my little desk in the corner of our room. After a minute spent collecting my thoughts and relaxing my hand, I write:

_Clove,_

_I'm sorry too. I don't want to be like this. I feel broken, and I think Peeta thinks I'm broken. He'd just never say so to my face. How can I describe it? I've been quick to panic ever since the Games, and once it starts, I can't stop it. It's like a floodgate, and when it opens I have to fight or run. When you touched me, I didn't know what to fight against, so I ran. I didn't know what to feel for you. It scares me. You scare me. That's not your fault, though. Neither of us asked for the memories we have to live with._

_I want to build new memories now – good ones. Last week was surreal, but if I'm really honest with myself, I wish you were still here. I haven't been back to the meadow since the morning with you. When we were together, I felt a little less alone. That might sound stupid, but there are so many people who can be around me and still leave me feeling alone. I can't tell you yet where this is going. I don't know if it's going anywhere. You're right in saying you can't be pushy with me. I have a lot of thinking to do. This is so much all at once, but being friends is a start. Being friends, I can do._

_I'll be waiting to hear from you._

_~Katniss_


	9. Reply

**-9-**

**Reply**

_Katniss,_

_You don't know how good it was to get your reply. I was afraid I wouldn't hear from you again. I know I was an idiot and I don't think you're broken you're amazing and I wouldn't want you to be any other way. I wish you were here to talk more often. I know it's only been a month since I left 12 but it feels like forever. I wish I could leave but that takes money that I don't have. At least I don't have to be Clare here. I'm starting to meet new people slowly. A lot act weird around me which makes sense I guess. I was dead to them just like I was dead to you. News travels fast though. I met your friend Gale. He said you don't talk anymore but wouldn't say why. What happened? Seems all right to me. He had a girl with him. Does that have something to do with it? Sorry. Probably not something you want to talk about. Forget I asked. Anyway I hope you're doing well. Bad snow storm went through yesterday so this might not get to you as fast as I'd like. I'll be waiting to hear back from you. They say they're hooking up more comm lines when the weather improves so maybe we can actually talk soon. _

_Stay warm Fire Girl._

_Clove_

The smudged paper slips from my fingers. So Gale found someone. Good. That's good. I should be happy. He must be happy. There couldn't be anything between us, and eventually we both knew it. I wonder what her name is. I wonder what she looks like. I wonder if he thinks of me when they're together.

It isn't fair to wish he did. He was my best friend – almost my brother.

But he wanted more.

Peeta wants more.

No. I force my thoughts to Clove. I knew Gale when he would have killed Clove on the spot to save me. What did they say to each other? Was it tense and angry, or did they catch up over lunch and coffee? Is it selfish to wish that Clove saves her social side just for me?

Stay warm, Fire Girl.

Those words at the end of her letter somehow relieve the sick feeling I get thinking about Gale and his companion. Mine is gone a little longer each day. I remember the time I spent with Clove – the morning in her room, and the afternoon that was so strange and wonderful until everything went wrong. There's no point regretting it now. All I can do is sit down and reply to her.

_Clove,_

I sit for a minute while I try to decide how to begin. Might as well get right to the point.

_Clove,_

_I'm surprised that Gale wanted to meet you. That sounded wrong. I should say that since he must have remembered you from the Games, I'm surprised he gave you a chance. I hope he wasn't sour with you. I guess he wasn't, since you said he was all right. I didn't know he had found someone. I'm glad to hear it. She wasn't the one who came between us. You could say that was Peeta, and the Games and the war themselves. There was no scandal or last fight. We just drifted. I hope he's happy._

_I hope you're happy too, as much as possible. You don't sound like you are. Does your head still give you trouble? _

_You're right that it's hard to believe how much time has passed. I think about our time together often. It won't be long until spring. Maybe it will be easier to travel then? I stay warm as best I can, but it's not the same all by myself. _

My pen lifts up, and I stare at what I just wrote, reading and rereading and wondering how she'll take it. What am I even thinking? I can't write my feelings into words when I don't know what those feelings are to begin with. All I know is that I think about her every day, and wonder how she's faring all those hundreds of miles away. I worry, and I miss her.

Yes.

I miss her.

I wish she were here to keep me warm.

_Take care._

_~Katniss_


	10. Secret

**-10-**

**Secret**

_Kat,_

_Spring might be coming but it doesn't feel like it to me. Very cold here and lots of snow. Makes getting pills from the pharmacy across town hard. My head's worse than when I was in 12 with you. I blame the weather. Storm after storm with no break. It's really getting old. I can't remember a winter this bad in my life. There's a bright side though. The mornings after a snow when everything is quiet and so cold and the sun comes up over the mountains. I don't know how I never noticed it before. Oh Kat I wish you could see it. One night last week I couldn't sleep for the pain in my head. I must have sat for two hours that morning and just watched the sunrise. I was thinking about my family and about Shay and how I never got to appreciate the sight with any of them and I don't want to have that regret with you. Let's you and I never drift like you and Gale okay? I haven't seen him lately by the way. Everyone's keeping to themselves with snow drifts up to their windows. When I do see him though I'll tell him he's an idiot for losing you. I'll never make that mistake. I want to see you soon and when I do I won't want to leave. I won't scare you again. We can do everything your way. I promise._

_Clove_

I am stunned. Where did this outpouring of emotion come from? She must have been drunk when she marveled at a sunrise and decided to put it all into words for me. _We can do everything your way._ Friendship was the boundary between us. Doing everything my way doesn't sound like mere friendship, but she doesn't want to scare me again. I can't tell from this what she wants.

_I'll never make that mistake. I want to see you soon and when I do I won't want to leave. I won't scare you again. We can do-_

The sound of a key in the front door lock sends me into a panic. I stuff the letter between the cushions of the couch and jump up as my sister opens the door. "Prim! You scared me. I didn't know you were coming!"

"Sorry." She gives me a little smile. "I thought I'd surprise you with lunch. Are you okay?"

"Fine! Just – definitely surprised."

"What's that?"

"What? Oh – nothing." Damn. Half the paper still sticks out of the cushions. "So, you brought lunch? It smells good." I lead her toward the kitchen.

"Greasy Sae made a great soup this morning. Real vegetables and meat and all. I had to share it with you."

"How is she?"

"Happy. Always asks about you. She misses seeing you every day."

"Hm. I guess I've been scarce for a while. I could pay her a visit."

She quirks a brow and smiles. "She'd love that! A lot of people miss you, you know."

"I know."

"You're acting weird today."

"I am?"

"In a good way! But yeah, you're… energetic."

I just shrug and smile and set about warming up the soup she brought. When I turn around to put bowls on the table I realize I'm alone. "Prim? Prim, where'd you go?"

Shit.

I run into the living room and there she is with the letter in her hand. Blue eyes turn up to meet mine.

It never occurred to me what I would do if anyone discovered Clove's communications. I guess I assumed I'd panic and try to explain them away. I got panic right. "Prim…"

"I thought maybe it was a letter from Gale. Or Finnick, or Johanna. Anyone else. How long have you been talking to her?"

"You – that wasn't yours to read!"

"How long?"

I could lie, but then again I could not. Panic is smoldering into anger. She read my letter. Mine! "I never stopped."

"You said you did," she says with a hurt look. "I don't trust her. I think she's – not good for you."

"Who is good for me, then? Peeta, who would rather be anywhere but here with me?"

"Don't say that. Peeta loves you. You know that."

"Do I? Seems like he avoids me more all the time."

"He does love you. He just doesn't feel like you love him back."

"Perfect! Thank you, Prim. I needed to hear that all our problems are my fault."

Tears fill her eyes. "I didn't want a fight…"

"What did you want? Permission to choose my friends for me?"

"Friends? That's it though!" she cries, flapping the paper at me. "Have you read this? It's not written to a friend! She… it sounds like she wants to be a lot more than your friend!"

There it is. I knew. Of course I knew. And now I can admit or deny it. "Maybe so," I bite out. "Point?"

"Katniss! What about Peeta? If he knew you had this – whatever it is – going on with _her_, it would kill him! He doesn't deserve that."

Fury rises from my chest, blinding and choking. For the first time I can remember, I want to slap my sister. I want to break the windows out and let in the icy air until I can breathe again. "Shut up. I can't believe you. 'Poor Peeta, Katniss is so cold to him, he deserves better.' Maybe that's because Katniss never wanted him! But does anyone care what Katniss wants? No! Since he made up this love affair, I've had to bury myself in it just to stay alive. Then to start a war. Then to live up to the fantasies of thousands of people we tricked at the start!"

"Stop yelling…"

"Do you know what that's like? Of course you don't! I saved you from all of that when I went off to die for you!"

"Katniss, please-"

"And nobody sympathizes with me, or wonders if I _deserve_ better. I am the symbol of this new world! And at the same time, I'm nothing but half of Peeta. The most fucked up part of it is that I never wanted to be either. Maybe I want something else. But it doesn't matter, because I'm not allowed to have what I want unless it is Peeta. Mellark."

I'm panting. Exhausted. Prim looks so young when she's sobbing. My face is wet with tears too. I hadn't noticed. I collapse into a chair and cover my head with my arms.

I hear her get up. I don't blame her. I'd leave too.

A pigtail brushes my face, then her arms are around me. She's shaking. "I'm sorry," she cries. "I never should have… I'm sorry." Not leaving? "I should be here for you. We never talk enough and I didn't know…"

"I wish you hadn't read it."

"I wish you hadn't lied to me. But it doesn't matter. I didn't think of you at all!"

"It's not your fault. Prim. Shh." I've never made her cry like this. It kills me. We end up on the couch together before we've both calmed down. My head rests against her, anger spent, with only a cold core of guilt left behind for turning on my sister.

"I'm sorry," I murmur into her shoulder.

"Me too."

"Don't you need to get back to the clinic?"

"No. You're more important."

Another long silence passes. I could relax if our fight wasn't playing back over and over in my head. All the horrible things I said.

"Do you love Peeta?" she asks.

"Of course. He's wonderful, and I owe him so much. But it's not the kind of love he wants. Just like with Gale. He wants more. He wants what I can't give. I hate it – I hate myself for it. I feel broken." I feel her shake her head.

"You're not broken."

"He's always waiting for me to heal. To change. I don't think I'm going to change."

"I wish I'd asked you about this long ago."

"I wasn't ready to say it until now."

"Do you…"

"Hm?"

"Do you love Clove?"

"I don't know." I want to say I wouldn't know even if I knew, because I've never known that kind of love before. But I have. A bloom in my mind – a flash of insight. What do I want?

What have I always wanted? Someone who was taken from me before I could tell her. Before she could tell me. That's why she's still with me, calling out, reaching for me, unfulfilled.

I won't know if I love Clove until I feel for her what I did for Madge. That was love. Yes, that was my taste of love. I look up into Prim's eyes. "But when I do know, you'll be the first to hear."

"Whatever you choose," she says, "I'll be here for you."

I feel myself smile as she takes away the agony of my secret. With Prim beside me, I will find my way through this.


	11. Dream

A/N: I know it's been a long time since the last chapter, and this one is painfully short given that. Had a lot to deal with over the last month, and hoping to get on a more regular update schedule soon. As always, thanks for reading.

**-11-**

**Dream**

_Clove,_

_I have to tell you this. I've been keeping your letters secret until now. Don't think I'm ashamed. I just didn't know how certain people would react. I also wasn't sure who you wanted to know that you're back. It all changed today when my sister found your last one. We talked, and I told her some of your story and how we reconnected. She understands. I don't know if you even care what anyone else thinks, but I feel so much better now that she knows._

My pen pauses. Where am I going with this? Should I really tell her this? What if she gets angry that I hid our friendship just like Shay hid their affair? She deals with enough painful memories without me bringing up more. We aren't even having anything as serious as an affair. Does that make me twice the coward?

But Prim is right. Clove wants more than simple friendship.

_You were right. I can't let fear control me. I should have told her from the start. I'm sorry. And don't worry – she won't go tell everyone she sees. I know you still use discretion, Clare. I trust Prim completely, even more than I trust myself sometimes. In fact, she can probably help us not have to sneak around so much when you visit again. I've been thinking about that. I want to see you soon too._

_We can watch a sunrise together._

_-Kat_

When all is quiet that night I lay in bed beside Peeta. I listen to his breath and feel his arms around me, but my mind drifts away over rivers and trees, over the trains, over the winter fields and lines of storms, to a girl a thousand miles away.

I dream of green eyes and warm hands that stir the ashes in my heart.

Clove.

Do you dream of me?


	12. Waiting

**-12-**

**Waiting**

_Clove,_

_It's been a while since I sent my last note. Today is gray and lonely, so I thought I would write to you again. Did they ever finish installing the comm lines? Hearing your voice would be wonderful. It's too quiet here when Peeta's gone. Really, it's quiet when he's here too. At least I have Prim for a few hours each day._

_She's asked about you, and whether we've talked since the letter she read. When I said no she looked worried, and she hopes nothing is wrong. You'll have to meet her properly when you're here next. Granted, you don't have much in common, but it's hard not to like Prim. I never feel like I appreciate her enough, and I'm sure you'll get along fine. Besides, she'll help things go smoothly when you meet my mother for the first time._

I stop and read what I have so far. My handwriting makes a smooth transition from straight and natural to uneven and forced. I must be cold. The house is cold.

It's not cold that's tightening my fingers. It's the thought of what will happen when Clove does meet Mom. If she does. What will happen when Clove meets Peeta? If she does… Deep breath. One hurdle at a time. First, she has to write back. Why hasn't she written back? Weather. Must still be having blizzards, but this late in the season?

Deep breath. Keep it together, Katniss. The fact is that I've been checking each day for two weeks, waiting to see a little envelope for me. Maybe it'll come tomorrow, and inside will be a curse for the snow and whatever else delayed her from replying to me quicker. I'll smile as I picture her sharp eyes flash in irritation with the elements she can't control.

Or maybe tomorrow, just like the other afternoons, there will only be an empty mailbox.

_But don't worry about any of that now. Stay healthy and stay warm. I hope the storms have moved on for good. It's still cold here with lots of wind, but I can see geese coming back from migrations. I even heard a songbird yesterday morning. I don't think I've ever wanted a winter to end this badly. The pond glen is so much nicer without all the ice. There won't be anyone to bother us then. _

_Please let me hear from you soon._

_ ~Kat_

Please…


	13. Talk

**-13-**

**Talk**

Water.

Everywhere.

Snow still in the shadows, melted runoff in the streets, fog in the alleys and clouds in the sky. The temperature clambered above 40 today, making Prim's walk here from the clinic sloppy and miserable. She insists she doesn't mind. Her socks are soaked from holes in the soles of the boots she refuses to replace, because she says supplies are short and others need them more.

I love my sister.

I told her she didn't have to come today; she didn't listen. Here she is with a hug and a smile and a basket of sandwiches and fresh cheese. And something else in her hand.

"Look!" She holds up the envelope for me. "I checked your box on the way in. I told you she was okay."

My heart soars. _Clove._

"Go on," Prim says. "I won't pry." She goes into the kitchen, and I turn my attention to what I've waited so long for.

_Kat,_

_You're probably pissed because I haven't written. I wanted to but it's hard to do from a hospital._

Two lines in and my heart stops. I knew there was something behind her silence.

_I had three straight days of pain so bad I had to keep the blinds closed before I ran out of food and had to go out. I guess I collapsed in the market because I woke up in a white bed in a white room that smelled of antiseptic and it gave me a panic attack because I thought I was back in the fucking Capitol lab. I hate doctors. A whole week I had to stay for observation they said. I wouldn't let them give me morphling because it makes my head foggy and I only took half the lighter painkillers they gave me. I'd rather suffer than be left alone and helpless with doctors again drugged up on sedatives. They wanted to run their stupid tests and poke and prod my head but I told them to fuck off. As soon as the pain faded I demanded to leave and they couldn't stop me so now I'm back at home and I've been feeling okay. Wanted to write to you first thing. Gale stopped by to see if I needed anything which was nice of him I guess but I told him what I thought of him ditching you in 12. Told you I would. Wish you could have seen his face – priceless. Anyway I hope you're not mad about that or about not hearing from me. Not going to back to the hospital ever. I'll deal with this on my own even through the bad days. It would be easier if I could just hear your voice. The comm lines aren't in yet since the ground is still frozen. This damn winter needs to end. I wished you were there with me every day and sometimes thinking of you was all that kept me from snapping. I want you here Kat. I know it's selfish to say but I have to say it. I want to be together and if that means just as friends then it's okay. Your way remember? Your way._

_Clove_

"Katniss?" Prim has come up quietly behind me. "What did she say? Is everything okay?"

No. No, it is not. "Here. Just… read."

She scans the letter and frowns. "I don't understand. Is she sick?"

"It's her head. It never really healed from the arena when…" I fidget. "She has medication to control the pain, but I think it's getting worse."

"She wants you to go to District Two."

"How can I? I can't just leave! Peeta… He doesn't even know about her."

She chews her lip. "Then maybe it's time he knew."

"Prim, I can't…"

"What do you mean you can't? Didn't you tell me you wanted to? If this is real…" She takes my hand and closes my fingers around the letter. "If you do feel something for her, he has to know."

My chest tightens. I was so angry when I felt her pressure me away from Clove – I wanted to run all the way to District Two just to show the world I didn't have to follow the false destiny of life with Peeta. Now faced with the prospect of actually telling him all this after keeping it secret for so long – and it's not just this. It's also finally admitting that my time with Peeta will at last come to an end, and why does that frighten me so much? Why is the knot of fear still clenched in my gut? "I could say I'm going to see Gale. Or Finnick and Annie."

She shakes her head. "You can't keep lying. It'll only get worse with time."

"I haven't lied. He knows I'm not in lovewith him, but he does think he can change that."

"Fine, then you can't _start _lying. It won't make anything better. I don't like saying this, but you'll have to end it. Peeta never will. You both deserve to be happy. He'll understand that, even though it's painful."

"I thought he didn't deserve to have me leave him."

She winces when I bring up our fight. "I meant he doesn't deserve to have you cheat on him. That's different from explaining that you can't be with him."

"It doesn't matter, because it won't happen one way or another. Things are the way they are."

She gives me a look and I just turn away, so she steps in front of me. "Katniss. Don't go to that place."

"What?"

"That dark place you go where you punish yourself. Your eyes show me what you're thinking. No more self-sacrifice. Please?"

"It's not self-sacrifice."

"It is exactly that! We both know what has to happen. It's time to live again."

_Prim…_

Peeta. I can't. I'm sorry. This life is what was built for me, and I need to learn to accept it… but how I hate it. The air is thicker, the walls closer every day. What waits beyond this? Anything? Happiness? What if I'm wrong? I've misjudged Clove this is wrong I'll be left with nothing and no one alone with my ghosts and broken mind.

I blink, spilling hot tears down my cheeks.

"I'm sorry." Prim hugs me. "I shouldn't have. Let's stop talking about it, okay?"

"No."

"No?"

"I'm scared. What can I say? What will _he _say? I hate this! I hate it!"

"Shh. You're not alone."

"I am. I'm causing this! I can't destroy his world just to – to run off to her! I don't even know if I want her!"

"I think you do know that." Her grip on me tightens, her head tucked into my neck.

"I'm such a – a selfish…"

"No." She shakes her head against me. "I said stop that. Being who you are doesn't make you selfish. Ignoring it is cruel to both of you."

"After all he's done for me…"

"He didn't do it to put you in his debt."

"No! He did it because he loves me!"

"And he'd do it all again, but you have a right to be who you are. Why are we having this talk? You were so sure of this that you screamed it all at me when I couldn't see it."

"I know, I know! But everything's different now when it's staring me in the face."

She finally lets go. "Nothing is different – nothing except that you know now more than ever who you are. It's why you never felt right with Gale, and why you don't feel right with Peeta. It's not selfishness – it's just you. You can't change what your heart wants, and I wouldn't have you change for the world or anyone in it. You deserve to find happiness in your life – your own life that belongs to you no matter what anybody did in the past."

Would I find happiness with Clove?

_I wished you were there with me every day… Your way remember? Your way._

I see her in her oversized sweater, dark hair black against pale morning light. Learning how to know me. Persistent. Beautiful. I would find happiness with her.

I whisper, "Please don't let me do this alone."

"Never."

"You're too good to me."

"Katniss." She smiles. "What are sisters for?"

Mine is no common sister. Mine is patience and strength and loyalty.

Clove. I'll see you soon.


	14. Meditation

**-14-**

**Meditation**

By the time Peeta gets home I've read all of Clove's letters several times over, going back to the first and working down to the last, then starting over again. They all feel so different now knowing what I know. I want to go to her, want to see her face again. I know what I must do. Prim left earlier with a promise that we would talk again tomorrow before sitting down with him. I am steeling myself. Preparing.

Then Peeta comes in from the foggy night with a smile and a hopeful kiss for me, and how could I ever think of doing this to such a wonderful, loving person? So devoted to me that he overcame so much all for my sake – just to be with me. And I'm considering leaving him for my own inexplicable desire for a green-eyed girl a continent away. A beautiful, strong, fragile green-eyed girl who has so subtly captured my heart. My fickle, ungrateful heart that ignores what I have and seeks the absurd, yearns for the impossible. For happiness.

Happiness?

No – love.

Love?

Passion? That, I've never felt, so its absence means nothing. Just a spark of the love I felt before I knew what it was, before my eyes were opened, would satisfy me.

It was always inside me.

I was blind.

Let me see again, just a little while. It doesn't have to be forever. I could come back. This door doesn't have to close. Prim was right – Peeta won't close it if I leave it open.

The solution was so clear, in front of me all along.

Breathe. Here and now. It's coming together.

It will sting, but now I'll survive. I have a plan and I will carry it out.

I will.

I will…


	15. Confrontation

**-15-**

**Confrontation**

"Let me get this straight." Peeta paces before us as Prim's eyes follow him back and forth. I look at my feet. "You met her. You brought her into our house. You wrote to her. And when were you going to tell me?"

I don't break my past five minutes of silence. Prim did most of the talking. All the talking.

"She didn't bring her here. Clove came here looking for her."

"Does it matter? She was in this house! A Career – a killer! – in our house. What – Katniss – what were you thinking? What are you still thinking? Going to Two to meet her? Speak!"

No. All the words are gone.

"She's been alone for a long time. I think she –"

"Stop. Prim. Stop. I want _Katniss_ to tell me why. Why are you doing this _stupid_ thing?"

Please don't make me speak. I'll overflow. Prim. Prim? Prim!

"Katniss!"

"I want to." Throat so tight. "I want to see her, so I'm going to see her. She's sick. She's alone. She needs me."

"She doesn't need you! She wants to kill you!"

"She had plenty of chances to do that," Prim interjects again. "I think she's being honest."

"So you support this? I thought at least you would know better."

Prim tugs a pigtail.

"What does that mean?" I force air into my lungs to defend her.

"Just what I said. The two of you obviously had this whole talk planned out. How long have you known?"

"A little while."

"What's a little while?"

"It doesn't matter. I can tell my sister whatever I want." I wish my voice wouldn't quaver. "And I can have whoever I want for friends."

"I never said you couldn't! But this isn't a friend! This is a trap and I won't let you go."

"You can't stop me."

"You're not going, Katniss! I'll tell Haymitch. I'll tell your mother! They won't let you go either!"

"Peeta…" Prim tries to placate him.

They argue. Over me. Around me. Can't breathe. He yelled at me. He's never yelled at me – threatened me. What would he do to keep me here? I wish he'd slap me. Throw me into the wall. Then I could fight back. This way there's nothing to push against. I'm falling. Drowning. Choking. They shout at each other in a cacophony that presses on my skull.

Maybe this is how Clove feels all the time.

Clove.

My Clove.

Run. It's only luck that I still have my boots on. I snatch my coat from the hook as I pass, hearing my name called behind me. I don't know where I'm going, but Peeta with his leg can't follow me there. I'm faster than Prim too. I could escape them both and disappear. But where?

"Katniss! Katniss, wait! Please!"

My legs carry me out of the streetlight pools of the victors' village and into fog-clouded darkness. Footsteps still behind me as I plunge toward the sleeping town. The train station. Get to the train station.

"Katniss!" Her calls are falling behind. I knew she couldn't keep up. I can hear the desperation in her voice. I can't do this to her – she doesn't deserve it. Against the jumping panic in my throat I force myself to slow and stop.

Exhausted, she catches up to me. "Where are – you going?"

"Train station."

"But…" She has to just gulp air for a minute. Standing still makes the night cold. Sweat chills me. I keep looking over her shoulder and listening for signs of Peeta. Finally, she finds her voice. "Are there any trains leaving this late?"

"I don't know, but the station never closes. I can stay there until one does leave."

"But – but it could be days before there's one going to District Two!"

"I'm leaving on the first one out, no matter where it's going. I'll get to Two eventually."

"Katniss… Think about this. You don't have anything with you. Do you even have money? This is a bad idea – please don't. Come home with me and we can talk about it."

"Had enough talking for a long time."

She huffs. "I'm not trying to stop you, but you're not prepared for this at all. I can put a bag together for you with food and everything, and how far do you really think you'll get with no money?"

I hate coins. They're heavy and loud and prices change with the hour. Only a few nestle in the inner pocket of my coat; the rest of what's mine is at home in a lockbox. I didn't think before I bolted. Damn. Wasn't thinking at all. "I can't take money from you and Mom. You need it."

"We can argue about it at the house. I'm cold. Can we go?"

"Peeta will come looking for me."

"If he does, I'll tell him you don't want to see him."

I look down the hill into the district. Most of it is dark except for a few glimmering windows, but the train station is always lit. Always people there – people waiting, sleeping on benches, anonymous and safe, until a train arrives to take them out of here to new lives.

I can't let Prim walk home alone…

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

Mom is asleep already when we come in; the house is dark. Prim leads me through the blackness, up the stairs to her bedroom. I hear a meow from somewhere in the hall. Damn cat.

Prim flips on the light and crashes onto her bed. "Do you know how fast you are?"

I don't feel like smiling, but she pulls one out of me. "I have an idea."

She groans. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" I sit with her. "You had to follow me."

She leans against me. "I tried to keep things calm."

"No chance. I knew that going in."

"I tried anyway."  
A door squeaks in the hallway. "Girls?"

I freeze at the sound of Mom's voice. She appears in the doorway Prim left open, disheveled with sleep, but she takes one look at me and turns grave.

"What happened?"

"Um. She, uh, had a fight with Peeta."

"A fight? Over what?"

Prim and I look at each other. "I think you should tell her," she says. "If you don't, he will."

"Tell me what? Katniss, honey, what happened?"

"You have to promise not to get mad, or to call me stupid, or anything like that."

"Why would I ever do that?"

_Everyone else has._ "Promise."

"Alright, I promise. Now what is it?"

I fix my eyes on the floor. "A few months ago, someone came to see me." It all comes spilling out. Clove. The visits, the day in the woods. The letters, her condition, her changing demeanor. My turmoil over what to think. To feel. Peeta's threat. My choice to go.

I can't remember the last time my mother held me while I cried. I don't think I ever let her, but I do now.

"I can't say I'm happy about hearing all this," she murmurs. "That – that little fiend – I watched her try to kill my baby girl."

"I watched her try to kill me too," I sniffle. "Then I watched her try to kiss me."

She sighs, but it's not getting mad or calling me stupid. "I don't know what to think about that, either. But it sounds like your sister's known about this longer than I have, and she seems to trust her."

I nod.

"And as for Peeta, he might be a wonderful boy, but you are my daughter. If this is what you need to do, then I would never let him convince me to stop you."

"Thank you."

She kisses my hair. "I do think you should stay here tonight. You can't just run off and sit in the station all night. It's cold."

"Okay."

"And I can pack a bag for you if you like."

"Okay."

There's a knock at the front door. Someone moans. It's me. I cling tighter to Mom.

"I'll go talk to him." Prim, ever courageous, gets up and goes downstairs. Peeta's voice drifts up. Then Prim's. Peeta's, louder, and someone else's. I can't believe it. He actually got Haymitch.

"Katniss!"

Mom never lets go of me. The door eventually closes and Prim pads back upstairs with Buttercup at her heels. She sits back down with us as if nothing happened. "I just said you didn't want to see him. One of them will probably be back tomorrow, but I'm betting you'll be gone by then."

"I will be. I'll make sure I am."

We stay up for another hour. Even though Mom and Prim have to open the clinic in the morning, they make us tea and sit with me, talking about anything but Peeta. I'm surprised how interested Mom in is Clove. I get the feeling it's more about knowing the enemy than friendly curiosity, but at least we're not pretending she doesn't exist.

When she finally goes to bed, Prim crawls into bed. I roll up my coat and stretch out on the floor.

"What are you doing?" she giggles.

"Hm? Aren't we going to bed?"

"Yeah, but you're on the floor! Get up here."

"Oh. Okay."

Her bed is smaller than mine, and the absence of arms around me is strange, but how soft it is. How safe I feel! There's nothing hopeful in her goodnight, no expectation left hanging in the darkness. No disappointment. Just comfort.

Tomorrow is tomorrow, and not right now.

I'm asleep before I know it.


	16. District Two

**-16-**

**District Two**

"Please be safe. Promise you'll be safe."

"Aren't I always?"

"No."

Oh, Prim. "I promise. I'll write whenever I can."

"You better."

My train will stop in District Eleven and District Ten before heading on to Two. They won't be long layovers – just cargo stops. That's what the woman at the ticket counter told me after recovering from the shock of seeing me.

Prim looks like she's working hard not to cry. I can't blame her. The last time I said goodbye to get on a train I was going off to die. No. There was the victory tour, too, but that was just as awful. She goes through the contents of the bag on my shoulder for the third time. "You have a change of clothes – some of your old ones. Sorry, it's all we had. Bread. A couple apples. Mom's herbal salve for cuts and burns…"

"Prim. I'll be fine." I take her hands in mine and make her look up at me. "I'll be there by tonight."

"I wish we had a telephone. The clinic does! You could call there."

"It doesn't matter. Clove doesn't have one."

"Someone in District Two would."

I hug her. "How about this – I'll write tomorrow, and if anything goes wrong before that, I'll find a phone and call."

"Okay. Are you sure you don't know when you'll be back?"

"I don't know, but I'll stay in touch. I promise." The train's departing whistle blasts. "I have to go. I love you."

"I love you too."

As much as I'm aching to leave it breaks my heart to step back from her and into the silver cylinder of the train car. The door hisses shut, blocking all sound from the outside world. There's a lurch as the brakes release, then we're off. My sister is quickly lost in the crowd on the platform, but I catch a single glimpse of Haymitch scanning the faces around him. Looking for me. He sees me through the window. For that instant our eyes lock, then the platform is gone and the train picks up speed. We accelerate until the hills and woods of District Twelve are all a blur.

I try not to draw attention as I search for an unoccupied seat. Most people who just boarded are too concerned with stowing luggage and organizing themselves to pay me any mind. I left my hair down to curtain my face, and it works in most cases, but it would only take one to recognize me and blurt my name. Ignore them all. Well. Not all. Smile at the little girl with a braid slung over her shoulder who picks me out immediately, waving and bouncing up and down. Just slip into the second car before she can catch her father's attention.

There's room here, but I go on to the third for more privacy and quiet. This is no Capitol luxury liner. It's a freight train with some extra room for passengers. The seats have straight, hard backs and no cushions. No mahogany dining tables to be found. The air smells of people, mud, and dead leaves. Effie would have fits. Poor Effie. I slide into a space far away from the only other cluster of passengers in this car, and settle in against the window to watch the world.

We reach the endless flats of District Eleven in just over an hour. No snow on the ground here; spring is far enough along for the trees and grasses to glimmer with the faintest yellow-green. Hulking machines big as our houses crawl across fields in the distance. It must be planting time. Forlorn settlements and work camps closer to the rails fly by out the window. Faces glance up just in time to see the silver streak of the train. Each of them could have known Rue or Thresh.

A slight vibration up through my legs is the only indication we're slowing down. The intercom crackles with an announcement of our arrival somewhere called Flax Depot F. There isn't enough civilization around for this to be the heart of the district. Good. I wasn't looking forward to being anywhere near the site of our disastrous victory speech. This will be easier.

We finally stop. The station itself must be farther back out of my sight; all I can see of the depot are a few sheds and stacks of shapes covered by flapping tarps. No one boards or disembarks. I wish they would hurry up and load whatever we're carrying on to District Two. Staring at the clock on the wall only makes the fifteen-minute stop crawl by slower until a chime sounds through the train and we're off again. After a little while I think I can just barely see the rooftops of the district's central city. Then the rails curve suddenly away and all I see are fields again.

_Goodbye, Rue._

The depot must have been in the eastern part of Eleven. It takes an eternity to reach even the unsettled grasslands between districts, and longer still to enter Ten. Bored with watching the featureless scenery, I went through most of my bread long ago and one of the apples Prim packed for me. I wish I had something to entertain myself, but that's the price I pay for leaving home so fast. I sing in my head. Songs I know, songs I invent, and songs that aren't really songs at all. Just wandering melodies that lead me into a fog of half-sleep.

Jostling bodies and a rush of noise wake me with an adrenaline jolt. The other people from my car are getting off, dragging two bags each down the aisle to the open door. I keep my face turned away; on the platform outside I see a mass of people and livestock of all kinds. Another train sits impatiently on a parallel set of tracks while permanent and makeshift market stalls line the center of the platform. District Ten is a flurry of human shouts and animal bellows.

My stomach growls, accustomed as it is to being full. I want to save my last apple. Food can't be my first priority when I reach District Two. Maybe here I can slip out and buy something quickly, unnoticed in the activity. I shove my wallet into my coat pocket, sling my bag over my shoulder and duck out the door; I'm immediately swept up in the flow of people. It's warm, but I wouldn't dare risk losing my coat by leaving it on the train. Turning this way and that, darting for openings, I make my way to a vendor selling skewers of meat straight from an open fire pit. He and his assistants are far too busy to do anything but take my money and thrust the delicious-smelling stick of chicken into my hands. I'm just another hungry customer, and I couldn't be happier that way. I don't even care that it burns my tongue. It takes my mind off the claustrophobic trip back through the station.

That's when I see the little bronze-haired girl from the train sobbing with one hand clutching her braid and the other arm wrapped around a light pole, her only buoy against the seething crowd.

The train will leave soon. Not much time left…

I can't leave her.

Shoving past a big man in muddy overalls, I blaze a path to the pole. "Are you lost? Where's your father?"

She recognizes me through her tears and points frantically toward the train.

"What are you doing out here?"

"I followed you!" she wails.

Oh no. "We need to get back quick. Come on, I'll carry you."

She latches onto my neck like she's drowning as the boarding whistle deafens us. I lower my shoulder and push through the throng, not about to be left behind after coming this far. We're almost run down by a pair of oxen headed for the other side of the platform. At the steps of one of our train cars I stumble, grabbing for the handrail. All that matters is not dropping her. The door starts to close and I throw an arm out to block it, gritting my teeth when it slams my wrist before shooting back open.

"Cady!"

The girl is whisked from my shoulder, then I'm reeled inside and fall to the floor as the door shuts again and seals. Why do I hear cheers? They're faint beneath my pounding heart, the child's crying, and a man's angry, desperate voice.

"Cady! Are you trying to scare me to death? What the devil were you thinking going out there?"

"I followed Katniss!" she blubbers.

"Stop this Katniss nonsense! You only thought you saw…" He sees my face for the first time as he pulls me to my feet. "I'll be damned. It really is you!" And then he's squeezing me alongside his daughter. "Thank you. Thank you, thank you."

A car full of passengers gape and press in to see me. All those faces. I'm going to be sick.

"You're a right guardian angel." He seizes my hand. "Donovan Odair. This little rogue is Cady."

"Hi," she whimpers.

"Odair? Not as in –"

"Your friend Finnick? The very same! Cousin of his, I am. A bit distant, but still proud. Family runs deep in District Four."

I need air. Unsteadiness crawls up my legs. "Can we maybe go where it's quieter? A few cars up?"

"Anything you want." He shoos me on while he tells the spectators that the show is over and thank you all for your help. I can't imagine what for.

I collapse back into my seat and try to settle my heart. The door opens behind me. What now?

"Katniss?" chirps Cady, cheeks red from crying. "Are you okay?"

"I think so. How about you?"

She crawls onto the seat beside me. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to meet you, but Daddy said it wasn't really you. I knew it was really you. Back in District Twelve."

"Looks like you were right."

Her father comes in and closes the door between cars. "Katniss. I'm so sorry for all the trouble. She was beside me all day, then we stop and I look over to find her gone. Had everybody on the train looking for her, and there she was out tailing you. I never thought it was actually you at all."

"So I hear."

"She's wanted to meet you ever since… well. Ever since the world learned your name. You're her idol."

"I can even shoot a bow! I'm the only girl in my school that can. I want to be just like you when I grow up."

No you don't.

At first I hoped they wouldn't stay with me for the entire trip to District Two, but it's soon clear they're not returning to their former seats, and I'm glad for their company in the end. Donovan tells me all about Finnick and Annie and Aaron, their son. Cady sits happily with me, talking the way children do without really needing or expecting replies. As time wears on she slowly quiets, dozing off in the lull of late afternoon.

Donovan looks over with a fond smile. "You just gave her the best day of her childhood, despite everything."

"Isn't it my fault she almost got lost?"

"You didn't ask her to follow you. When we get back home, she'll tell this story to anyone who'll listen, and some who don't want to."

"She reminds me of my sister at that age."

"Thanks for humoring her. I know once she starts gabbing it's hard to stop her."

"It's okay."

"So where're you heading, if you don't mind me asking?"

"District Two. Visiting a friend."

"Ah, Gale, is it?"

"No. Not him. We don't count as friends anymore."

"You don't say? He's in the news and whatnot every so often. Never answers any questions about you, though."

"Oh? I don't watch anymore."

"Honestly I always thought he was hot in the head, even during the war. People still wonder about what might've gone on between you and him and Mr. Mellark."

"I don't care."

"Easy now, I'm not judging. Ask me, nobody should be prying. Should leave you in peace seeing as that's what you want. It's probably just that they expect you to be like the others you fought beside. Finnick, Johanna, the brain with all the inventions…"

"Beetee?"

"Yeah, that's him. They're all such – such public figures now, you know?"

"Sorry to disappoint."

"I'm only saying… ah, now I've gone and riled you after what you just did for us. I'm only saying that you inspired so many people just like my girl there. People love you, Katniss. You really are a hero. You've done so much good, and you're still doing it without even trying."

"I don't feel that way at all."

"Whether you feel it or not, it's true. Maybe – and don't be taking this the wrong way – if you met more people like Cady, you'd see that."

I'm suddenly unsure if I like Donovan Odair. "Shooting a bow and wearing a braid is not being me. I hope no one else ever has to be me. It's a curse. Everything about it from the beginning."

"But that' s just it. Thanks to you, no one else has to live the hell that you and all the kids before you did. Her wanting to look like you isn't making light of you or anything you endured. They never have to know that world because you saved them from it. You gave them real lives and hope. You gave all of us hope! And I'm glad I can be here with you to thank you for that."

To thank me. Thank me for living with my nightmares and fear? For killing? For being a figurehead while the real revolutionaries moved their pieces around the board?

I've heard these words before. Just not from someone who was, hours ago, a total stranger from half a nation away.

"I'm glad she never has to live it. Her or anyone else. Still, that's not good enough. The others might act differently than me but it doesn't erase what happened to each of us. The Games and the war didn't make heroes and idols for kids to dream about. They left behind death and broken lives like ours, and like all the thousands of people who never got out of District Twelve. If that's ever forgotten, it will all happen again."

Cady stirs. I was louder than I should have been. Donovan bobs his head slowly. "You don't have to tell me about death. You wondered yet where her mother is?"

I hadn't.

"Well. You probably figured it out now. That's the point of being out here, seeing new places, getting away for just a while. It's been a hard year for both of us."

"I'm sorry."

"But I'll tell you – and then I'll drop it – that it was hope that got us through losing her. Hope that the world would keep going and keep getting brighter. That came from you."

"Hm."

"Still. You do have a point."

I'm done talking. The rigid seat has me on edge, and now there's the weight of yet another loss on my conscience. I rest my head against the window. We must be close to Two by now. Maybe if I shut my eyes and rest the time will pass faster. What if I miss the stop? No. I'll hear the announcement, and if not, Donovan will wake me up. Just a bit of sleep won't hurt.

Except I'm not tired enough to sleep. Uncomfortable and unsettled by talk of the war, there's no chance. I drift with eyes closed, counting breaths and focusing on the hum of the train. The glass pane grows gradually cooler. My ears pop. We're climbing.

"_District Two Central Station: five minutes."_

The crackled call sends jitters down my legs. I'm here at last, but I still have a way to go on foot to the address Clove wrote with each letter. It could be half a mile, or five. I hope it's not too cold. In the sunset's last rays I can see snow stubbornly lingering, and the mountains – oh, the mountains, towering high against the sky, immense even at a distance. I must have seen them before, but it was hard to notice beauty on the victory tour.

Cady, awakened by the announcement, gives me a hug that I'm not totally prepared for, but I don't mind. I fix her braid over her shoulder and tell her to shoot straight. She beams.

Donovan shakes my hand. "I'll remember what you said. All of it aside, you brought my daughter back to me. Without you, would've been a terrible end to what was supposed to be a vacation. If you're ever in District Four, look us up. Finnick and Annie'd love to see you, and I owe you a hundred favors."

I thank him and say goodbye, sparing a smile for Cady before stepping down onto the empty platform. This station is deserted, and there's enough chill in the air to make me close my coat. I need to find Clove's house soon.

There's a district map beneath the red and green train schedule board. By the light of the scrolling text I search for her street. Every road and alley here has a name. It's a little jarring since back home we only had five named roads before the bombing, and all others were simply numbered. These aren't even in any helpful order. I scan the map twice without success before a woman approaches me. I start at the sight of her peacekeeper's uniform and get ready to run before I see that the Capitol insignia has been ripped off and replaced with a numeral II above crossed swords.

"You look lost. Need directions?"

"Um. Yes, please." I tell her Clove's address and she frowns.

"Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"That's a bit of a walk from here." She points it out on the map. "I wouldn't take the direct route through the wards. Not at night alone. Lots of displaced and homeless settled through there since the war." She points to the apparent bad stretch on the map and indicates a way I'll have to go around. "It'll add a mile, mile and a half. You sure you're up to this? It's cold."

"I'll manage. Thanks."

"Hey. You look familiar."

"Sorry, but I've never – "

"Holy shit." She steps back. "What the hell are you doing here?"

My mouth dries up at her tone. "Seeing a friend."

"Alone this late?" She eyes me. "Watch your back. Here, for every two or three who fought for you there's one that fought twice as hard against you. I would _not_ walk this if I were you."

"What choice do I have?"

"Follow me. I'll see if anybody's free to drive you at least partway."

I follow, wondering what side she chose. Did she choose a side at all? I don't think she's one of the people who call me a hero. I'm weaponless, but I will not be afraid. Not when I'm so close.

I will not be afraid.

In the pale light of the security office she mutters into a radio. I hear my name twice, and a restrained argument. She turns. "Wait here. An officer will be along to collect you."

Collect me?

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it," she says as the door swings shut behind her.

Five minutes pass. Then ten. I sit. Listen to the electrical buzz of the overhead lights. My eyes sting. The sleep on the train wasn't sound.

Finally, footsteps. A man with dark skin enters the office. "Miss Everdeen. Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Oh – it's fine."

He shakes my hand. "If you'll follow me outside, I can take you where you need to go."

"I'm ready."

There's no sign of the other officer as I climb into the passenger seat of a small peacekeeper vehicle, again with the Capitol eagle blasted from the side and replaced with the new District Two emblem. It's blissfully warm inside.

"I'm sure my colleague didn't give you the warmest welcome. You'll have to excuse her. Not everyone here was prepared for the revolution."

I don't ask exactly what he means by prepared.

"Don't get the wrong impression. You have friends here." He smiles. "I understand you're trying to reach one now."

"Trying." I give him the address and we set off. What little I can see of the district appears almost normal. Their recovery must have been swift.

"I'm somewhat surprised. I thought when I first heard the call that you would want to see Gale Hawthorne."

"Once he finds out I'm here, he'll probably come around."

"He's generated some controversy by living here. As I said, not everyone was glad to be swept up in revolution."

Why does everyone want to talk about Gale?

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For everything that happened here."

"It was coming for a long time. You were just in the right place to open the door. Or might I say the wrong place?"

"It mostly feels like the wrong place."

He just smiles again, as if I confirmed an old theory. Cramped and tired as I am, I don't mind him.

The streetlights grow farther apart as we drive; the houses shrink and roads narrow. I keep waiting for the lamps to end altogether like back home, but they never do.

"This is your street." He turns onto a side road that dead-ends six houses down.

"Wait, wait. I can walk from here. I don't want to make a scene with the official car and everything."

"I understand. I'll wait here to make sure you get inside."

"Okay."

He pulls to the curb, and I step out into slush gray with stones and cinders.

"Be safe, Miss Everdeen."

"I will. Thank you."

At last it hits me: I am here. I made this journey myself. I will not be afraid. But as I count the house numbers down to Clove's and see the darkened windows and undisturbed snow on the walks, I am afraid. It never occurred to me that she might not be here. After all, she didn't know I was coming. What if she's in the hospital again, or with a friend, or…

What if I never find her?

What if I do find her? Oh what have I gotten into? Why did I come here? When was this a good idea?

The snow is thin, but it still crunches under my boots. I feel like the whole district can hear. At the door I listen and hear only silence from inside. This is it. I knock.

No reply.

Knock again, louder. I don't breathe.

Something thumps in the house. Or did I imagine it?

Knock again.

"Damn it! I'm coming, okay?"

She's here she's here she's here… No turning back. I'm flooded with doubts, second thoughts, hope, glee, and fear.

A light snaps on. "This had better be good," I hear her growl. Two chain locks are withdrawn, then the door is yanked open.

Clove springs back as the light spills over my face. "Kat? Katniss! You're – _here_?"

"I'm sorry it took me so long. I thought… thought you needed… someone."

"Kat…" A knife I hadn't noticed slips from her fingers to the floor. In two barefooted steps she crashes into me and almost knocks us both into the snow. She squeezes the air out of me. "I did."

She's thin. I can feel it.

"You didn't say you were coming."

"Wasn't exactly planned."

"Something happened. What happened?" Those eyes haven't lost a bit of intensity. "Tell me inside. It's cold." She hugs me once more, breaths clouding around us. "I missed you."

"I missed you too."

She takes my hand and pulls me in. The fear is left outside in the night.


	17. Together

**-17-**

**Together**

"He threatened you?"

"Not really. He just said he'd tell people who'd help him stop me. Like my mother and Haymitch."

"That's a threat."

I shrug. "I got out first."

"And you came here."

"I came here."

We sit on her threadbare couch, she with her legs tucked beneath her and a blanket around her shoulders. At first she gave it to me, but I made her take it back to stop her chills. The fireplace sits dark and empty – out of coal, she said – but the electric lamp on the table beside us gives off a comforting glow.

"What about you?" I ask. "Have you been okay? Your head…"

"A lot better now that you're with me."

"I mean before. You said you had to go to the hospital."

"I'm over it."

"It didn't seem like something you just get over."

"Do we have to talk about this?" She blows out a breath. "Sorry. It's been hard, but I survive. Damn medicine's expensive, and I think I'll be paying for the hospital stay for the rest of my life. I've already had to sell a lot. Kitchen table, the beds from the other rooms… It's still barely enough." She leans back and pulls the blanket close around her neck. "Why is it so fucking cold? It should be spring already."

Should I let her change the subject? "District Twelve is all mud right now. Is winter usually this long here?"

"No," she sulks.

"We should get more coal tomorrow."

"As soon as I get more, it'll warm up. Then the money will be wasted." She groans. "I'm so tired. When I don't get enough sleep I have bad days, and I never get enough sleep. Every time I lay down, it's just _there._"

"What's there?"

"Pain. Right here." She touches a spot just above her left ear. "With the medicine it feels like a finger pressing on my skull from the inside. Go too long without the medicine, and the finger becomes a knife."

No – I should not let her. "Clove… This is getting worse. You can't just let it go on. You need help."

"I don't. Even if I could pay for it, I'll never let another 'doctor' fuck around with my brain. Never." It's punctuated with a wince, and she knows I saw it. "I'm. Fine."

"Yeah. Okay. Just… take it easy."

She huffs again. "The best thing right now is for me to go to bed. You coming?"

What? Of all the times and ways to ask. My stomach churns. "Um. I think I'll stay out here for now."

"Oh." Her disappointment hurts. It hurts more because part of me wanted to accept.

I can't.

"I'm sorry. That's just – I only just got here."

"You don't have to explain. Your way, remember?"

I do remember. I'm surprised she does too.

She stands and dumps the blanket into my lap. "Here. You'll need it. Should've said earlier that there's a little of this and that in the kitchen if you're hungry."

"I'll be okay until morning."

"And if you get cold…" She gives me a look over her shoulder. "Door's unlocked." She climbs the three little steps to a hallway and disappears into the first room, leaving me in the strange immensity of a house that isn't mine. I'm not keen to turn off the lamp.

I know as soon as I stretch out and close my eyes that sleep will escape me, but I lay there and let time pass. What happened back home? Did Peeta go to Mom and Prim? Is he on a train coming after me right now? All my contingency planning was for nothing; my need to hold that door open is replaced with an urge to slam it shut. Something moved in my heart when he forbade me from coming here.

This is useless. No sleep. No rest.

It's so very quiet. I sit up and look around at the things that were eclipsed by Clove from the moment I came inside. The kitchen and its contents are half the sizes of the ones in the house I share with Peeta. A dark stack of plates rises from the sink. If I listen hard, I can hear the soft clicks of the refrigerator. When we first moved into our victors' house those sounds startled me constantly, like little feet stalking across the floor.

A door leads outside from the kitchen. I can tell by the dirty rug on the floor before it, and the yellowed drape obscuring a window.

Closer to me, three lonely books share a shelf with a thick knife and a collection of empty pill bottles. On the wall hangs a pair of pictures: a man and woman, and three children. A sharp-eyed little girl and her two baby brothers.

That's it. That's what is wrong here, out of place, setting me on edge. This house was hollowed by my war. Everyone in those pictures is gone except one. Clove has been living here in cavernous stillness with ghosts.

Like me in my own house – in my own mind. I know what torment that is, and I know what I have to do.

I click the light off, leave the blanket and my coat on the couch and hurry out of the room. Stub my toe on the steps. Feel down the hall to Clove's door. Inside, I slide my feet across the carpet until I touch the bed.

"Katniss?" A quick whisper, barely a frightened breath.

"I didn't want you to be alone." My eyes are adjusting; I can see her shape shift over to one side of the bed. I slide in beside her, trying not to touch her or open the covers to the cold air. I feel like I'm in a dream. Maybe it is a dream, but the awkward pull in my gut is real. This isn't Prim. This is Clove. I know how she feels and what she wants, and still I'm here beside her.

"Thank you," she murmurs.

I nod, though she can't see me. She turns over, and by the sound of her breathing, she's facing me. Neither of us speaks again. Eventually, the darkness of the room becomes the darkness of sleep.


	18. A Good Day

**-18-**

**A Good Day**

I wake to faint birdsong filtering through the walls, yet I'm surrounded by darkness. Refreshed and alert, and thoroughly disoriented. I sit up and let my eyes adjust. A tiny glow escapes under what I realize is a blackout curtain hung over the window. Of course. Clove's pain is aggravated by light.

Clove.

We spent the night together. I can feel her beside me, still fast asleep.

I slide out of bed as carefully as I slid in, managing not to trip over anything or squeak the door hinges. The morning brings a friendlier atmosphere to the house, but it's still so quiet, broken only by the birds. I could almost be back home.

Home. Can't forget to send a note to Prim. She'll be waiting. There's a little stack of yellowed notepads on the counter. Good enough for a quick message. Nothing else really for me to do until Clove wakes up. I say that I've arrived, I'm okay, and my only concern is running out of money, but I'll probably be home before that happens.

'Home' in my mind is automatically attached to District Twelve, to my house with Peeta, and I don't want to go back there. I don't want to go home. I also don't want to write that out for Prim to read and start to panic when she can't reach me instantly. Nothing to make her go to Peeta for help tracking me down.

My stomach growls. The lack of food is catching up with me.

I get up and start to forage in the kitchen cabinets. Most are empty, but in one there is bread sprouting green fur. In a cabinet, some bags of nuts and seeds. Dried fruit. Old tea leaves. No milk in the refrigerator. No vegetables. Nothing that could spoil quickly. The freezer is filled with bags of ice.

This won't do. There's so little food; I don't want to take any of it, but I can't ignore my hunger. I eat a handful of peanuts and a few dried apple slices. That will have to sustain me. I wonder if Clove is underfed because she thinks she can't afford food, or because her constant pain makes her nauseous. She almost looks like I did before the Games. Maybe I just never noticed? No. Last time, there was fullness in her cheeks. Muscle tone in her arms. Not anymore.

I push the drapes back from the windows and look out into the yard – snow-packed weeds poised to begin another season of overgrowth. The remains of a garden haven't quite been obscured. Old plant stakes mark the ground like gravestones. The singing bird is perched on one.

"Nice view, right?"

I jump out of my skin. Clove laughs from the bedroom doorway. "Got you. Sorry. Couldn't resist."

I missed that smirk so much.

She joins me in the kitchen and sits on the counter. "Eat yet? I know there's not much."

"About that – I was warned last night that I might not be welcome here, but if you need me to, I can pick up a few things. Just tell me how to get to the market."

"Ugh. It's across town. Long walk. I couldn't ask you to do that."

"I'm volunteering. What? What's that snicker for?"

"Volunteering. Good one."

"Oh. Ha…"

"Come on, that was funny." She hops down and nudges me with her shoulder. "Are you sure? You didn't come here to get groceries for me. I'm capable."

"I know, but still. It's hard for you."

"Don't treat me like an invalid," she warns. "Give me a while to eat a little and change, and we'll go together. Can't have you getting lost out there in the big city."

"Right, big city. Must have missed it on my way in."

She laughs again. Wish she'd do it more. "Damn, I'm glad you're here."

An hour later we're making our way down a quiet street heading for the market. She walks close beside me. The swing of her arm is just such that I think our fingers might brush, but they never do.

"And you're sure no one will give you a hard time for being with me?"

"I told you, that cop was full of it. Just trying to scare you. There are no more bad people here than anywhere else, and even if somebody's got a problem they won't do anything about it. Especially not with me around."

"Oh, my hero."

She shoots me a grin. "It's nice to be appreciated."

"Uh-huh."

We take a shortcut she points out, and I trip almost as soon as we leave the road. District Twelve has rocky places, but it's nothing compared to Two. We pass between a squat concrete building and a hill that must be one giant boulder. My ankles roll on snow-hidden gravel. Trip yet again and curse under my breath.

Ahead of me, Clove smirks. "Careful there. Don't want to have to carry you to the hospital with a broken ankle."

"You took us this way! Some shortcut."

"Relax. Look – we're here. I saved us half a mile."

"Hmph."

It's not what I'd call a market. Nothing like Twelve or Eleven. This is a depot with a purpose, not a social gathering place. Most of Two seems to be that way. I follow her from stall to stall watching as she checks each price, and more often than not, bites her tongue and moves on. Finally, there is a burst of color. Red and green apples, peppers, bright yellow pears. Here are potatoes, carrots, purple cabbages – produce fresh from the southern districts stretches out on tables for the next twenty yards. My mouth waters. Clove barely pauses.

"Hey, wait. Why not some of these? They're perfect."

"I don't need those."

"You've barely bought anything."

"I'm getting what I can."

"Then I'll get what _I _can." I grab a basket and start filling.

"With what? How much did you – don't you dare buy all that for me!"

I hold it back from her as she grabs for it. "For us. You're not the only one who has to eat."

"Katniss…"

"Don't argue." _And don't say my name so loudly._

She huffs and folds her arms. "I guess I'll let you this time."

I can tell the man recognizes me when I pay, but he doesn't say anything to it. Maybe Clove's right and that peacekeeper was exaggerating. I fail to convince her to buy more coal for the fire, but she does break down for some oatmeal and raisins. I stop long enough to drop my letter in a postal box, and we leave with our arms full.

The walk back is hard; we have to rest twice. No rocky shortcuts this time. It's all worth it that evening to sit happily together at her kitchen table beside a pile of apple cores, cherry pits, and peanut hulls. Tomorrow, I promise, I'll make a stew. This was no feast, but our stomachs are full and Clove is beautiful, aglow with contentment. She tells me this was a good day, relatively without pain.

For me also, relatively without ghosts.

Oh yes. A very good day.


	19. No Rest

**-19-**

**No Rest**

I don't go home that week. I don't even consider it. No one has come looking for me. No one expects anything of me. I've never felt so free. Even a little package with money from Prim and a note saying Peeta is worried sick can't dampen me. I guess that means she had to go to my house to get the money. Still, she says she hopes I'm happy, and that I'm finding what I went looking for.

I am.

"That from your sister?"

"Mhm."

"Everything okay?"

"Fine. She just wanted to know I was safe."

I sit next to Clove on the couch, her legs stretched out across mine. "You miss her?"

"Of course. But she's not why I left."

I don't go home the next week. A few bright days have cleared the last of the snow, and while it's far from summer, it isn't cold either. We clean up the yard as best we can with a couple of machetes Clove sharpened to razors. It takes a few days at the mercy of the weather and her pain, but in the end, it doesn't look bad. When it's finally done, we sit together in the evening light and take in the smell of cut grass until it gets too chilly for comfort. I'm pleasantly tired and ready for sleep when we fall into bed. As I drift off, I feel her fingers brush mine.

The next day begins with a groan from the curled lump beside me. Everything is still dark, but I know I didn't imagine it. I nudge her. "What is it?"

"'S gonna rain," she mumbles into the pillow.

"What?"

"Head always hurts bad before a storm. It'll rain today." She rolls over to look at me. "Maybe it won't be as bad as the last time, but can we eat now while I can still stand?"

"Um. Sure."

I thought she might be exaggerating, but by noon she's back in bed with the lights off and the curtains drawn. Sure enough, the storm rumbles in from the west, sending sheets of rain that lash against the windows in their best efforts to get inside. I'm finishing shoving a towel beneath the outside door when I hear her call my name.

Even with the hallway dim, I only open the door a crack. "Need something?"

"Left my pills on the table."

I run and get them for her and make my way back to the bed.

"Thanks." She gulps two and drains the glass of water. "Can you maybe… just stay here a while?"

"Of course."

She lies next to me for a few minutes before curling up and putting her head in my lap. I'm unsure what to do – if there's anything she needs me to do – but this is so similar to every time Prim was sick as a little girl. Then as now, I hate feeling useless while she suffers.

_ Help her._

Hair brushing always relaxed my sister, but that would almost certainly be too rough. I glide my fingertips like breaths over her damp hair, careful to avoid the spot just above her left ear. I stop when she makes a noise, but she protests.

"No, no, it's okay."

So I continue. Her black locks reach down past her shoulder blades by now, and I wonder if at some point she got hold of something to make it grow faster. Maybe she spent more on it than she should have. Then again, it could just be the way she is. Resilient all around.

My other arm's getting stiff with no comfortable place to go, so I slowly lay it around her. She takes my hand, and I can feel how her pain ebbs and flows by how hard she squeezes my fingers. I wonder. There isn't much more I can do for her, but there's something else I know how to do.

I sing to her.

Not loudly. Low and soft, and without words. Just melodies I hear as they come to me. For a long time, I don't know if she likes it or not. Then I notice my leg is wet. She's crying, and trying very hard to make sure I don't notice, so I pretend I don't. We stay that way until the storm subsides and the birds are chirping again, then till the pressure has changed enough to take away some of her pain. She finally rolls over onto her back and looks up at me.

"You have a gift," she says.

"Hm?"

"Nobody else could make me feel like that."

"Like what?"

"Like… I don't know. Everything at once."

"How many of those pills did you take?"

"Shut up." She snorts and wraps her arms around me. "'M not that impaired."

I realize I'm smiling – grinning, even. Free and happy. She nuzzles into my stomach, and I giggle. "That tickles."

She does it again and rises up slowly until she's looking me in the face, sitting in the shaft of dim glow from the door.

We are very close. Very close.

There's a knock on the front door.

"Son of a bitch." She sags back down on my legs. "Shh. We're not here."

Another knock. I left the light on in the kitchen. Whoever's at the door can probably see it. "I'll go," I sigh.

"No, screw it."

I slide out from under her. "I'll just see who it is and say we're busy. Okay? I'll be right back."

"Nnn…"

The visitor knocks again when I'm halfway there. "I'm coming!" I was never good at keeping irritation out of my tone, but when I pull the door open, the last person I expect to see is Gale Hawthorne. By the look on his face, he wasn't expecting me either.

"Hey. Er. Catnip. I heard you were here, but… had to see if the rumors were true."

No. You don't get to call me that anymore. Ever. We might as well be strangers now. Except we aren't.

"This time they were, I guess."

"What are you doing here? It's great to see you. I wish you'd told me you were coming."

I didn't come for you. "Sorry. Things on my mind. Thought I might run into you sometime, but it never happened."

"Been away for a while. Just got back a few days ago and heard."

I haven't moved from the doorway. Haven't invited him in. I don't know if he wants me to. Expects me to? I don't care. Lots of pain attached to him in my mind. Not all of it's his fault. Enough of it is.

"Katniss? Who's there?" Clove appears around the hallway corner, more rumpled and disheveled than I am. "Oh."

Gale's eyes flicker between us. I want to know what he's thinking, what conclusions he's trying to draw. "Do you think we could talk alone?"

"About what?"

"Just… how about it?"

"She means, what the fuck is it that I'm not allowed to hear?"

He holds up his hands at Clove's interruption. "Relax. No big secrets. We just haven't seen each other for a long time."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Clove, it's fine." I don't need a fight. "Sometime, Gale, but now is really not good. I'm sorry."

He nods. "Sometime works for me. I'll look forward to it. See you around, okay?"

"Yeah. See you around."

When he's gone and the door is closed, I turn to see Clove slumped against the corner of the hall. "What are you doing? You didn't need to get up."

"'M fine."

"You're not fine. Come on." I take her arm and guide her back to bed. She protests the whole way, but quiets when I'm again sitting next to her with her head in my lap. "I worked hard to make your pain go away, and now you've gone and brought it back."

"I just got dizzy. If I didn't go out there, he'd still be there trying to make nice with you."

"You two really had it out, didn't you?"

"I told you I let him know what I thought of him running off and leaving you."

"And I told you it wasn't all his fault."

"Details, details." She gives a cat stretch and wraps her arms around me again, and I guess I'm not going anywhere for a while.

I'm glad she interfered. If she hadn't, I might be outside forcing myself to listen to whatever Gale wanted to say. Somewhere in that conversation, Peeta would come up. Inevitably. Peeta always came up when Gale talked to me. I'll need to be ready for when that _sometime_ comes around. I don't know exactly what will happen, but I do know that my two peaceful weeks are over.

For now, I stroke Clove's hair and try to think only of her.


	20. Let's Go Out

**-20-**

**Let's Go Out**

Gale doesn't wait long to see me around. He's back by the next afternoon, this time unlucky enough for Clove to reach the door before me. "We don't want any," she snaps, trying to shut it on his foot before I can see who it is.

"Katniss – please? Can we just talk?" he asks over her head.

I end the standoff with a touch on her shoulder. "It's okay. I promise." I get only a glare in return. "I'll be quick."

He's unaffected by her snarl or her production of stalking away. "Don't know what you told her about me," he says as we sit outside together. "But it made her hate me."

"I didn't make anything up. I just told her what happened."

"Mm. What did happen?"

"You were there, weren't you? Is this what you came to do? Lecture me for not staying in touch?"

"No. Sorry." Except for the new clothes and styled haircut, he hasn't changed much outwardly since our days of sitting together in the forest back home after hunting. It aches to think back to that, but I've had a lot of time to learn the difference between love and nostalgia.

The new clothes and haircut tell me much has changed inside.

"Heard you found someone," I try. "A girlfriend?"

"Where'd you hear that? Oh. Clove, right? Yeah. I did."

"How's that going?"

"Good. Really good."

I wonder if she has a name.

"What's going on, Catnip?"

Don't call me that. "What do you mean?"

"When I left Twelve, you'd barely go out of the house. You were empty. Now you're suddenly all the way out here with life back in you, no Peeta, staying with a girl that used to be your enemy… What's going on?"

"What's going on? Am I not supposed to ever leave Twelve again?"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"I know what you meant. Why is Peeta not here. You want to know _what's going on_ between Peeta and me."

"It's a fair question."

"It's not your business. You left. You could have stayed, but you couldn't have me the way you wanted, so you left."

"I thought it'd be best for both of us. We used to have something, then we didn't, and there was nothing either of us could do – or would do."

That turn of phrase fills my throat with the sourness of an impending fight. We haven't been apart long enough for me to forget his signs of anger. "I know how you felt about me, Gale. I just couldn't give that back to you."

"Why? The war's over. That act can be over. You and I can go back to the way things were."

"We didn't have what you thought we had. And I might have thought it once too, but I was wrong. What makes you think anything is bad between Peeta and me anyway?"

"You don't pay attention to talk, do you? People notice when you leave home and don't go back. They get interested when Peeta can't hide how worried and confused he is. Even the Capitol has gotten word by now that something's wrong."

"Oh."

"And then I find out you're here – where I am. What am I suppose to think?"

"Oh…." No. This isn't right. No one was supposed to get any ideas, or even know. I was supposed to vanish. "I was angry at Peeta when I left," I say slowly.

"You haven't gone back."

I'm getting angry all over again, and it's making tears spring to my eyes. "Gale, this – between us – isn't happening. I'm sorry. I know you want it to, but it's not."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't love you like you love me." It's so hard to watch his expression turn bitter. "And I didn't. I'm so sorry, for before and now, for getting your hopes up, if I made you think so…" I'm grasping for words. This can't get any better now. I get up. "I need to go."

He catches my hand. "I won't believe it. I will not believe that this can't be."

"I can't make you believe it." It hurts to talk around the lump in my throat. "But you have to accept it. Go back to the one who can love you that way. Does she even know you're here?"

"No."

"You should tell her – before Clove does." I pull away and go back inside without waiting to see him leave.

Clove is in the kitchen, perched on a chair like a brooding cat. She only reacts when I sit down next to her. "That," she grits, "was long for a quick talk."

"It had to happen," I murmur.

Her tone softens when she sees my face. "Let me guess. He wanted everything to be forgiven and to sweep you off your feet while you're pissed at Loverboy?"

"More or less."

"Typical."

"I'm not interested, and I said so."

"Are you sure?"

"What? Do you think – are you really worried about him and me?"

She shrugs.

"You were."

"I dunno… You were old friends, and you never had any final fight or 'closure.' I'm not stupid. I know how that story goes."

"Then tell me how it ends."

"You start spending more time together? Reconnect? Realize you love him after all? Something like that."

I shake my head. "No. He's not the Gale I used to know. Even if he was… I knew for a long time he wasn't my type."

"What is your type?"

We study each other, she waiting for my answer and me wondering how much my answer matters. "I'm still figuring that out. But green eyes are my favorite."

The corners of her lips twitch up. "He's not one to take rejection."

"He'll have to. I'm through with pretending for anyone."

"You should be. You don't owe that to anybody. And you're really not good at it." She smirks, and I know now we're okay.

"I'm really not, but you're no good at hiding feelings either. You just tried to shut the door in his face."

"Was it that obvious? Oops." She starts to laugh, and it's contagious. I can't help it. We dissolve.

"Did you see him… trying to call me over your head?" I gasp.

"When I opened the door… he had this look like… shit, I didn't want you!"

I'm giddy with the relief of the talk with Gale being over. I faced it without falling all into panic. Guilt and regret in the moment, but it's fading. It didn't destroy me. I laugh till my head hurts. I can only imagine how she feels, but if she's in pain, she doesn't show it.

When we've calmed down and caught our breath she asks, "Did he mention Callista?"

"Is that his girlfriend?"

"Ooo, didn't even give a name. Yep. They met right after he came out here, as far as I can tell. Perfect for each other. She was some gung-ho freedom fighter type; born in the Capitol and defected at the first sign of uprising. Flew the rebel banner all over the western districts."

"Sounds like what he was always looking for. You're right – they're perfect." So leave me alone and go enjoy her.

"At least that's what they'd have everyone think. Me, I like the quiet life. No cameras in my face, no journalists at my door."

"I think I might ruin that for you."

She heaves a sigh. "Ah, well, I guess you're worth it."

"I wouldn't think so."

"I'll pretend you didn't say that." She hops down from the chair. "And I'm not about to let him ruin your day. Let's go out."

"Where?"

"Anywhere."

Her enthusiasm pulls me along; I find myself smiling again. "Lead the way."


	21. Worse

**-21-**

**Worse**

Clove has her own getaway like I have my meadow, and our wandering brought us here to the sunny outcrop overlooking the district. It's a perfect place to stretch with our heads on the grass and our backs against warm rock. All around us is green, yellow, pink, and blue. The endless mountains dominate the sky.

"It really is beautiful here," I murmur.

"Mhm. It's easier to notice now. Everything's… brighter. I wish I'd been able to see it before."

"It was hard to appreciate anything but survival before."

"Yeah. Shay and I, we never had these moments. At least not as good. Always something hanging over us. It's like I said: I don't want to miss it all with you too."

A smile is the best response I can give. She says all this implying that what we have is what they had. I just don't know…

"Hey."

"Hm?"

"Feels like you're a million miles away."

"No, I'm here."

"Uh-huh." She shifts onto her side to face me. I can't help but notice the gentle curve of her hip in the sun. "I'm sorry. Does it bother you when I talk about her?"

"No. Of course not. Why would it?"

"Well… I dunno. I thought maybe, since I did meet her first, you know…? Ah, forget it."

"I'm not jealous, if that's what you're after. You had something special, and I wish you still had it. It's not fair that she was taken from you."

"Do you actually mean that, or is it just what you think I want to hear?"

"I'm terrible at lying, remember? I mean it."

She smiles slowly. "I have something special again." She rests her head against my shoulder. Our breathing blends with the sigh of the breeze. Maybe we doze. Everything is so still that it's hard to say. Do I dream of her fingers brushing mine, or the soft little sound she makes when I don't withdraw?

Clouds have filled the sky and I've lost track of time when she finally stirs, stretches and declares it's time to get something to eat so she can take a pill. She says she can feel a twinge already, and winces as she sits up. "Ugh."

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just a head rush." She takes my hand to pull herself up, and there's just a moment when she sways on her feet.

We start to make our way down the hill. I don't stray too far from arm's reach in case she doesn't quite have her balance. A dark line of clouds is building on the horizon. The wind has picked up. "Looks like rain."

"Uhn. Better hurry."

I can tell by her expression that the pain is growing to more than a twinge. "We'll make it. I'll carry you if I have to."

"Wha?"

"I said I'll… Are you okay?"

She stops and stares at me, and there's fear in those wide eyes.

"Clove, what's going on with you?"

She grabs my arms so hard it hurts, and we're both frozen for a heart stopping minute. I don't know what to do. Don't know how to help. Then she blinks hard. "I don't… couldn't understand. I couldn't understand! I could hear you talking, but it made no sense. The words, it was just… noise! Ah!" She clutches her head.

"That's it. You need to see a doctor."

"No! I just need to lay down."

"Are you serious? You just had a – a seizure, or something. Lying down won't fix it."

"It'll have to." She pushes past me and keeps going. I have no choice but to follow her.

By the time we reach the house her pain is bad enough to put her on the edge of tears. I send her into the bedroom cave and bring her a couple of pills and an apple. My own appetite is gone.

"Thanks," she mutters, gulping the capsules. "Ahh. Just give me a few minutes."

"Yeah. Right."

"Mmnrm. Hey. Come here." She reaches for my hand; I almost pull away.

Almost.

When she's curled against me again, apple ignored on the bedside table, I can't stay quiet anymore. "You're getting worse."

Silence.

"It's not just pain anymore, is it? Obviously not."

"Kat… Can't we just relax? Sing to me again."

"Not until you listen to me. You have to go back to a doctor."

"Don't start."

"Please."

"I'm not going," she grits.

"What about my mother?"

"Huh?"

"She's a doctor. Look. I'm running out of money fast. I'll need to go home soon anyway, and maybe I can convince her to come back out here with me and check you out."

She twists to look up at me. "You're leaving? When were you going to say something?"

"When I had to."

"So, what, the night before?"  
"It'll just be for a few days. Enough for me to move a little more of my life out here, and bring you some help."

She pushes up onto her elbow. "You think I'm going to let you go alone?"

"I… didn't think you'd want to go."

"I don't, but this isn't a walk across town. You're going back to Twelve, and who the hell knows what could happen between here and there, and back again."

"I made the trip once."

"And now you'll be close to people who really won't want you to come back to me."

"What are they going to do? Kidnap me?"

She just gives me a dark look. "I. Don't trust. Anyone. Anyone but you. I'm going."

I want to be annoyed by her suspicion, but I'm more touched by her own brand of concern. "We won't stay long, but while we're there my mother can examine you. My sister too. They're doctors, but not like you're used to. More like healers. It's just the two of them and a few assistants at their clinic. No scientists. Nobody to do anything you don't want them to do."

"I don't want anyone to do anything."

"But you're in danger, and you're not the only one who can be protective."

She gives me a glare, then blows out a hot sigh. "You're so fucking stubborn."

"Oh, am I the stubborn one?" I pull her back against me, and she settles her head on my stomach.

"You're lucky I like you so much," she mumbles.

"Hush."

* * *

It takes a long hiss of static until the connection strengthens and I hear a voice on the other end.

"Prim?"

"Katniss! It's been weeks! Where have you been?"

"I'm still in Two with Clove." I can hear the noises of the clinic in the background. "I'm sorry. I know I haven't been writing, but I'm coming home."

"Really? When?!"

"Two days. And… Clove's coming with me. She needs help."

"Her head? Is it getting worse?"

"Worse. Do you think you or Mom could-"

"Yes. Well. I'll have to get her prepared for this, but even if she won't, I'll help her. I don't know if I'll actually be any help, but I'll do my best. I'm just glad you're coming home. Two days? So, Thursday night?"

"We'll come right from the train station to your place, if that's okay."

There's enough of a pause to concern me.

"I'll make it okay. Don't worry about it. I love you."

"Love you too. See you soon." I put down the receiver and move out of the impatient line of people waiting to use the public telephone.

Clove is waiting by the market entrance. "How'd it go?"

"Well enough. At least Prim will be happy to see us."

"See you, you mean."

"No. Us." I take her arm. "Us."


	22. Examination

Since so many reviews come from guest users, meaning I can't reply directly to each of them as I'd like to, let me just take this chance to say how much I appreciate your support. Reviews, favorites, and follows make my day. I hope you all keep reading and enjoying!

**-22-**

**Examination**

"You're grinding your teeth again."

"Tsh. Excuse me."

We've already started slowing down as we near the District Twelve station. I don't know what's worse: the anxiety of what might await us at the platform, or the thought of spending another hour in this train car with a wiry, snappy Clove. I can't blame her. This is the last place she wants to be, and in her mind right now it's all my fault. I reach for her hand, and this time she pulls away. "Clove…"

"Just stop. You're as tense as me. It's been a long day, and I want off this damn train." She squeezes her eyes shut. "I'm hungry, I'm tired, I'm in pain."

"Sorry." I make myself busy getting our few things in order. When the train glides to a stop we let the other passengers clear out before getting up. I have my braid tucked under my coat, and it's unlikely anyone would recognize her. I'm glad it's dark. I feel eyes everywhere, though no one but Clove has spoken to me since we left the District Two station. I take us out of the pools of light and into the familiar shadows, heading for Mom and Prim's house and praying we don't run into anyone who knows me.

Clove's been lagging behind, but a few quick steps bring her up beside me. "About earlier, I-"

"I get it. And you were right. I'm scared too."

Fingers clasp my hand. She can't see me smile in the dark, but my racing heart slows just a bit as we step out onto Mom's street. It's early enough that most of the windows are still glowing with lamps and lights. It's hard to be quiet and fast carrying a bag each, but I try to pick up our pace.

Prim has the curtains of one window open. I can faintly see her sitting and watching the streets.

"There."

The door swings wide when we come up the front steps and my sister slams into me. "Why'd you have to stay away so long?"

"Come on, come on," hisses Clove, checking to make sure no one followed us.

"Right." I pull Prim along with me through the door, and when it's shut and the curtain drawn we can finally let our guard down.

Prim looks from me to Clove. "Um. You must be…"

"And you must be Primrose."

"Prim. It's good to finally meet you."

"I've heard you're quite the-"

Footsteps hurry down the stairs. We barely have time to steel ourselves before Mom is right beside me with a quick hug. "Welcome home, honey," she whispers, then looks up. "Clove."

"Mrs. Everdeen." Clove nods to her. "I appreciate you letting me stay here." Her voice is smooth, but her fingers work at the hem of her shirt. My mother is a threat she can't fight in her preferred way.

"Katniss trusts you," Mom says. "I don't. I want to make that perfectly clear."

"I understand. I hope I can change that eventually."

Mom inspects her. "Are you in pain now?"

"It's manageable."

"Mm. There's tension in your left eye."

"That's the bad side."

"How long have you been awake?"

"Um. Seven this morning?"

"Bed. Now." She points up the stairs with all the authority of a commandant.

"Right. Thank you." Clove slinks past her.

"I'll be up in a minute," I say as she vanishes upstairs. That leaves me and Prim with Mom. "I know this isn't easy. You don't know how much it means to me."

"I know exactly what it means to you. You're one of the most suspicious people I've ever met, and you've lived with this girl for weeks. If she's earned your trust I suppose she's earned mine, but she doesn't need to know. It doesn't change what she did, and it doesn't stop me from having nightmares about it."

"Oh. Mom…"

She waves her hand. "Don't you worry about that. We need to focus on her problem."

"Please tell me you can help her."

"I don't know yet. We'll see tomorrow. You should get to bed too."

I just nod. She doesn't sound hopeful. Not a bit.

"She'll be okay one way or another," she says, and hugs me against her. "If we can't help her, there's someone out there who can. So try to sleep well."

I follow Prim upstairs after Mom turns in. "Thank you for making this work."

"She needs help, and that's what I'm here for. I, uh, wasn't sure whether you'd want to sleep in my room, if you two would…?"

"We're okay together."

She smiles and shakes her head. "It's still hard to believe."

"What?"

"You and her."

"Oh. Yeah. It's weird sometimes."

"Is everything okay?"

"It's not something I'm used to or good at."

"Not used to or good at? That makes two of you," she says with a glance at the closed door. "But you followed her there, and she followed you back here. Seems like dedication to me."

"Thanks."

"Just take it one day at a time." _Here and now? _"Go on. I'm sure she's waiting for you."

Clove is waiting, pacing the room in her loose shirt. "I'm sure those conversations were pleasant."

"It's fine. Don't worry about anything."

"Your mother hates me."

"No, she doesn't. I promise."

"Won't be surprised if she changes her mind about this whole thing by tomorrow-"

I take her by the shoulders and make her stand still. "I. Promise."

The way she tenses makes me think she's going to push me off, but she sighs and deflates in my arms. "I'm sorry."

"Just pretend we're back home."

"You _are_ back home."

I shake my head. "Not really. Not anymore."

She finally slides under the covers with me. It's almost possible to pretend we're actually back in Two.

"Katniss?"

"Hm?"

"What if your mother can't help me?"

"She can."

"What if she can't?" She doesn't move beside me; her voice is small in the darkness.

"We'll find a way."

She melts against me, and we take temporary comfort in each other's closeness. Eventually, somehow, we find sleep.

When I wake to an empty bed there's a terrible moment when I think I'm back in the Victors' Village. Images in my head from indistinct dreams. This isn't my room. Voices drift in from somewhere. My mother's voice, and Clove's.

I throw off the covers and pad down the hallway to the top of the stairs.

"…started as annoying headaches and some nausea. I took pills for the pain and I was fine."

I creep down the stairs. They're at the kitchen table facing each other; Mom's shining a flashlight in Clove's eyes.

"You still take them?"

"Yeah. Twice as many, but yeah."

Mom puts down the flashlight. "Why did you come looking for Katniss?"

"Over the winter? I was alone. I had nobody else."

"And you thought the girl you tried to kill would want to be your friend."

A long pause. "We all did what we had to do."

"That's a coward's excuse."

"She would have done the same to me in that moment."

"You think she would have made your death into a spectacle the way you meant to do to her?"

"No. She wouldn't have." She averts her eyes from Mom and sees me. "Katniss…"

Mom's startled too. "Oh. Dear, I didn't hear you."

I put on a smile and wander in to sit next to Clove as Mom gives us space. Clove won't look at me. I nudge her.

"You heard, didn't you?" she mutters.

"Mhm. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? For what?"

"I wish she wouldn't needle you like that."

"She's right. You wouldn't have been cruel to me."

I let my arm rest around her. "It's all history."

Mom comes back in to the kitchen and gives us a look, sitting as close as we are. "I did a quick examination while you were still asleep, Katniss. No doubt we're dealing with more than migraines here. I could give her something stronger for pain, but that doesn't solve the problem. Fixing her is beyond me, I'm afraid."

"So what do we do?"

"I know a surgeon in the Capitol who specializes in-"

"No. No surgeons. No Capitol." Clove shakes her head. "Thank you for all of this, Mrs. Everdeen, but if there's nothing more you can do, I should go back home."

"And do what?" I demand.

"Rest? Get over it? I don't know."

"That's not going to make you get better."

"I'm not going to the Capitol!"

Mom raises an eyebrow at the venom in her voice. "This won't go away with bed rest. You can either see a doctor who can help you, or you will keep deteriorating. All I know is that the cause _could be _brain damage from your injury."

"I told you everything that happened."

"Which is why I gave you the advice I did. Even with my clinic's equipment, I can't see any farther in than your skull. Still, I'll bet that whatever is causing your pain will eventually cripple, if not kill you."

I stare at Mom. Clove stares at the floor. Mom clears her throat. "I'm sorry to be so blunt, but I'm not interested in being gentle with your feelings." She waits for one of us to reply. When we don't, she stalks upstairs.

Who will break the silence…

"I guess that's that," Clove murmurs.

"That's that?" My mouth turns bitter. "You're serious, aren't you? You really want to go back and just wait for the end!"

"I'm not going to the Capitol."

Raw anger propels me to my feet. "How can you do this? Drop into my life, get me to leave my whole world behind, make me care about you, make me-" I bite my tongue before I can say anything I'll really regret. "And now you want me to stay quiet and pretend there's nothing that can be done? Go back to Two with you?"

"I never said you had to go back with me," she snaps.

"Like I'd leave you now! Don't you get it? We're in this together, and you're going to make me stand by while you die. Slowly. Painfully."

"It's not going to kill me."

"And what if it does?" She doesn't reply, so I keep going. "It doesn't matter. You're. Getting. Worse. You're suffering and making me watch. What you're doing now? It's crueler than anything you could have done to me in that arena."

"Kat…"

"Save it."

A bang on the door interrupts our fight. "Katniss! I know you're here! Please, I just want to talk!"

_Peeta. _Not now.

Clove stands behind me. "Out the back. Let's move. It's not like they'll break the door down."

I'm frozen. It's too late for hiding; they must have already heard us fighting.

"Katniss, come on!"

"No."

"What do you mean?"

"Come out, sweetheart! Enough running." _Damn. _Haymitch too.

"This had to happen sooner or later," I tell her.

"Fine, but why now?"

"Because the fear's distracting me from what's really important."

"What's that?"

"Just stay beside me. Please?"

Our argument isn't forgotten, but she straightens and takes my hand. "As long as I'm breathing."

"This," I tell her. "This is what's really important."


	23. You Win

**-23-**

**You Win**

"Katniss!" Peeta grabs me in an unwelcome hug. "What were you thinking going off like that? We didn't know where you were, if you were okay…" He notices the girl next to me isn't Prim.

"She was fine," Clove says. "Great, actually."

"You."

"Problem? Don't even – try!" She counters his attempt to grab her. Haymitch pulls him back, and she sneers. "Just want to talk, huh?"

"I have nothing to say to you," Peeta spits.

"Oh, then I'll just sit quietly while you give Kat whatever monologue you had planned."

"I should show you –"

"What is this?" Mom's at the top of the steps. "Haymitch! Did you know she was here?"

"Might've heard a few things."

"And you thought this was the best way to handle it? Throw them all together and let them fight?"

"Come on, Grace, it was bound to happen. Should just get it over with."

"Not in my house," she snaps. "Peeta. Clove. Control yourselves."

Peeta barely unclenches his fist, and Clove doesn't budge.

"Please," I whisper.

"We need to talk," Peeta says. "Without her."

"Screw you, Loverboy."

"Without anyone," I tell him. "There are things you need to understand." I don't have to look at Clove to picture her hurt expression. This is the second talk I've kept her out of. "Come with me." I lead him into the back yard, leaving Clove, Haymitch, and Mom alone together. Damp morning chill still hangs in the shaded lawn. Panic crawls up my throat, but I've felt it before, and I know I'm stronger than this. Still, I feel sick with it.

"There must be things I need to understand," he says as soon as we're outside, "because nothing's made sense so far."

"I know."

"Help me, then. Tell me what I'm missing."

"What you're missing? It's that this… it can't be."

"What can't be?"  
"Us. You and me together. It didn't happen on its own. It was set up for us, but I know you've wanted it from the start. I wish you could feel how hard it is to say, because you've been so good to me. So patient and tolerant and kind-"

"Because I love you!"

"I love you too, but not how you love me." My eyes sting. "You keep waiting for me to change. For some morning when you'll wake up and I'll be everything you've always wanted me to be: affectionate, smiling, happy. In love with you. You keep waiting, but that day's not coming."

"Don't talk like that. She's twisting your mind!"

"No." I shake my head. "She's not. I have my own voice. For the first time I know what I want and why."

"And what's that? What do you want? Her?!" He paces.

"Yes."

"What?"  
"Yes!"

We stare at one another. "I'm losing you," he stammers. "Real or not real?"

I haven't heard that in a long time. "You're not losing me, Peeta." The tears spill down my cheeks. "But I'm not going to marry you. I'm not going to live with you anymore, I can't I'm sorry I'm so sorry…"

"And you love her," he says. "The way I wished you'd love me."

Can't answer either way without facing something terrifying. Have to say something. It's like watching myself from a great distance. "Yes."

He rakes his fingers through his hair. "Explains a lot, I guess."

"It's not like that. I didn't realize. I tried, I did, I promise. But I'm… someone else. Someone I didn't know before." Nothing I'm saying makes sense anymore, not even to me.

"Yes, you are." He finally stops pacing. "What now?"

"I don't know. She's sick, Peeta, and she doesn't want to help herself. I have to save her. Somehow."

"You don't owe her anything."

"But I'd do the same for you."

He nods, and has the look about him that tells me he's not saying what he's thinking. "Then that's what you have to do, I guess."

"Yes."  
He steps toward the door. "I love you, Katniss. I hope someday you're happy."

"Me too."

"I won't stop hoping that it'll be with me." He disappears inside, and I can't bring myself to follow. I feel weightless. Aimless.

How did this happen? Did I do this?

The door opens again. _Brace yourself._

"Kat?" I wonder what I must look like; Clove seems almost scared to approach me.

_Come here now and catch me I'm falling and none of this even feels real…_ "Help."

She covers the space between us in two bounds and takes my hands, studying my face. "What you told him is your business. You don't have to repeat it all, but just tell me where we are."

Where we are? I sniffle. "We're right here." And when I pull her against me, I'm not falling anymore. I'm heartbroken and exhilarated and still alive, and the path is clearer than ever. It's done.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs. "I shouldn't have left you alone."

"I told you to. He wouldn't have listened unless every word came from me."

"I don't think he listened anyway."

"Probably not."

She hesitates. "He told me on his way out that you'll blame me when you regret this later."

Her trepidation… She searches my eyes for an answer. Warm affection blooms in my chest. "You listen to me. I…" I'm out of words to follow it, to fill the space. What can I do? One thing feels right. Gently, skittishly, I brush my lips against hers. Once more. Then part, and wait. Green eyes are wide. I squeeze her hands. "I don't regret that."

And she breaks into the most thrilled smile I have ever seen from her. Nothing else is necessary. All that had to be said passed unspoken between us in that moment. We're on the same path now, and I don't want to turn back.

When we finally come back into the kitchen, Mom is waiting for us. And Haymitch. Why is he still here? No Peeta.

"I take it that went well," Haymitch says.

Ignore him.

"How is he?" I ask Mom.

"I think he'll be all right, with time. A wound like that won't close in a day."

It's been opening for a year.

"But," she continues, "you must put your own desires before his. It's your life to live, and hiding who you are will only make every day miserable. If he truly loves you – and I have no doubt that he does – he will understand that, even if it means losing you."

"He doesn't have to lose me."

"That's good of you to say, but it will be up to him. Only he can decide if he can accept any role between husband and stranger."

"I never wanted to hurt him."

"No one thinks you did."

He thinks I did.

"Isn't it better this way, getting it over with?" Haymitch asks. Mom glares at his smirk.

"You think I can just _get over _Peeta?"

"First step's the nasty one," he shrugs. "Can't heal until you set the bone."

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Mom says icily. "I think Peeta could use some company right now."

"You're Haymitch Abernathy, right?" Clove asks.

"The same."

"I should thank you for helping Katniss stay alive."

"Oh, it was my pleasure. You didn't make it easy for me."

Mom interrupts again. "Do we really need the past making this morning worse?"

"I'm only saying. All this irony! You try to kill Katniss, then Katniss leaves her boyfriend for you? Strange how life is."

"The only strange thing is that you're sober enough to hold a conversation!"

"It's okay, Mrs. Everdeen. I didn't ask for his approval. He helped Katniss. That's enough for me."

"Never said I didn't like you, did I? You must not be so bad if you can pull a real kiss like that out of this one."

"You were watching?!" I yell as Clove turns deep red.

"Haymitch! Out!" Mom stabs a finger toward the door. He laughs and stumbles out with her on his heels. "After they've just been through hell… Low even for you!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Just remember what I said-"

She shuts him out and storms back in, still muttering to herself. I thought Clove would be angrier, but she's just gone very quiet.

"I'm so sorry," Mom says when she's calmed down a little. "I've never met another human being who can be so good one moment, then _so awful _the next!"

"It's okay, I think." I hope I'm not speaking too much for both of us.

Clove looks up and slowly between us.

Mom's expression softens just a little. "You don't need to look so in trouble. _I _respected your privacy."

"What did Haymitch mean by 'remember what I said.'?"

"Oh. He is aware of Clove's condition, and her reluctance to go to the Capitol for treatment. He told me that he knows people who could make it easier and faster for her."

"Meaning…?"

"I don't know. That's all he said before Peeta came back inside. Now, I really have to get to the clinic. I think you two have a lot to talk about." She pauses in front of Clove. "I don't know what happened out there, but I know my daughter. If she cares about you enough to kiss you and mean it, the least you can do is care about yourself enough to fight for your own life."

Clove nods. Mom hugs me, promises that everything will turn out okay in the end, and leaves. Clove looks at me.

"I don't want to go."

"I know. You wouldn't be alone."

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does. I wouldn't let anyone hurt you, or take you."

"I won't let myself be helpless again. You can't protect me every moment."

"Watch me."

She blinks hard, and I realize she's trying her best not to cry. "I have nightmares about this."

"You told me you don't trust anyone but me. Right? So trust me now. Please. I'd want you to do this even if it made you hate me."

"Nothing could make me hate you." I follow her into Mom's living room, where she keeps all our pictures on the side table. Clove takes an immediate interest in them as she stretches out on the couch. "What have we here? Is that…" She squints at an older one. "Is that baby Katniss?"

"We don't need to go through those, and you never answered me."

"Baby Katniss! Haha! You were not happy with whoever took this shot."

"My father. I only let Mom keep that because he took it. Huh. I do look mad."

"I like it." Her eyes sweep the other frames. "Who's that?"

"Oh." She had to ask. "Her name was Madge."

"Was?" Her grin fades. "I'm sorry."

"She was my closest friend before all of this. A bright spot in my life, no matter how bad things got."

"You two look so happy there."

"It was a good day."

"You never mentioned her. How come?"

"I guess I wasn't sure what to say about her. We didn't get a story like you and Shay did."

Her lips part a little. "You mean you…?"

"I don't know. We never came close to figuring that out."

"Never talked or anything?"

"No."

"Wow. I, uh. I wish I could have met her."

I don't tell her that I still see Madge in the occasional unsettling dream. I don't say that Madge would have liked her, because I'm not sure it's true. Doesn't matter. Their lives were never to cross, as distant as Shay's and mine. The only difference is that Clove has the could-have-been. I have feelings understood far too late. Still. I have Clove. I lie down next to her; she shifts and sits up to put her arm around me. I hear her hiss in pain. Sat up too fast again.

"I don't want to lose you," I say. "Not ever, and not like this. Not when I don't have to. Please. I couldn't save Madge, and it still haunts me. I can save you." I wait for a reply that never comes. When I look up at her, she's blinking back at me and nodding. Not agreeing. Distracted and pale. "It happened again, didn't it?"

"What happened?"

"You know what I mean."

She frowns. "Yeah. Just for a second. But yeah."

No more. It's a waste to lie here talking about the past when each minute eats away our chances of a future. I jump up. "You stay here. I'll be back soon."

"Where are you going?"

"To find Haymitch."

"For what? Kat, no-"

"No! We're out of time, and he says he can get us to the Capitol fast. I'm not arguing with you. This is life and death. There is no more discussion."

She's suddenly all tension. "You know if it were just me I'd never go."

"But it's not just you, so you can't be a selfish idiot."

"Then as long as we both understand that I'm doing this for you."

"You know who else would have made you do it for her?"

"But…"

"Yeah, you know. And she wouldn't have waited this long to make you." I left my damn coat upstairs. Forget it. No time.

She curls her knees up to her face. "You win."

I want to scream that it's about time and why did it have to take this long at all and why for such a fighter do you care so little about surviving this. "She wasn't the only one who came to love you."

Her eyes snap up as I dart out the door to find our way to the Capitol.


	24. Flight

**-24-**

**Flight**

Which way to go? Would he have gone to talk with Peeta? Would Peeta have gone home?

Not likely. He probably went to the bakery, and Haymitch probably went… home? To the market? Damn, damn, I don't know.

Run to Haymitch's house and pound on the door, look in the windows. Everything's dark, but that means nothing. Pound again and yell. Nothing. The market will take the longest to search. Best save it for last. I'll check the bakery and try to stay out of sight.

This time I don't care if people see me running through the streets. I don't answer the few calls I hear. I have one goal, and I don't stop until I reach it. The lights are on inside. At least I found Peeta. I'm far enough away to avoid his attention, but I can see him in the front of the store talking with… Delly?

"_She drops in most days."_

"_You never mentioned her."_

"_Guess I never thought it was worth mentioning."_

I wonder if it's worth it now. Forget it. Haymitch isn't in there. Move on.

What were they talking about? Did he tell her all about me and Clove and this morning and these weeks I've been gone? I'm sure she already knows about that. But this morning? If he tells her, the whole district will know. We need to get out of here. Damn it, Haymitch, where are you?

He has a few regular haunts in the market, but I'm eliminating them one by one. Maybe he was at his house after all and just ignored me until I left, and I'm wasting time here. I left Clove alone. How stupid! She might need help right now while I'm running around trying to-

"You look all in a rush. Girlfriend get lost?"

"Haymitch! Where the hell were you? I need to-"

"Whoa, slow down, sweetheart. I came here to relax and you're ruining it." There's a bottle of something dark red in his hand. Where did he get wine?

"You can't. I need your help, right now."

"There's a first."

"Mom told you about Clove. About her head. And you offered to help us get to the Capitol."

"Hmm. I might recall."

"We need to go."

"She told me _Clove_ didn't want to go, that she went all crazy just at the thought of it."

"I don't care. She needs to go."

"Don't care what someone else wants? There's the Katniss I know."

"Shut up!" A few heads turn. My hand twitches; I'm so close to knocking that expensive bottle from his grasp. "She could die. Did Mom tell you that? She's having seizures. We need to go _now._ Will you help us or not?"

He takes a long drink from the bottle, and the sweet smell makes my stomach feel empty. "Go back to Grace's house and don't leave your girlfriend alone again. It's stupid in her condition. I need to make a call."

"When will you get there?"

"When I have something to tell you! Go back and stay with her."

"If you don't tell us anything by tonight, we're leaving tomorrow."

"Would you just go!"

I don't have a choice. He's heading deeper into the market, and I need to get back. I try to think of every time I've put my faith in him and lived. If he fails Clove, I'll kill him.

Back at Mom's I find Clove still curled on the couch where I left her. She swipes an arm across her face as I come in, but it doesn't hide the redness in her eyes. "Well. Find him?"

"Yes. He said he's making a call."  
"To who?"

"I don't know." I sit with her. "But he has until tonight to come up with something."

"I shouldn't be this scared."

"I never said I wasn't. I'm just more scared of losing you than I am of the Capitol."

"You said you loved me."

I sigh.

"Did you mean it?"

"I wouldn't make it up."

She turns over so she's looking up at me, head in my lap. It really is like being back in Two. "I was starting to worry I'd never hear that from you."

"I was starting to worry I'd never feel it. Not for real."

"At least you didn't wait till the moment before I die to say it. I hate stories like that." She laughs, and it's strained; I see her eyes glitter. "I wanted to be able to say I love you too."

"Clove…"

"What if I waited too long? What if we get there and they say there's nothing they can do? Your mom, she wasn't hopeful at all."

"Shh, yes she was! She said they'd be able to help you there."

"She doesn't know." Her cheeks are wet now. "What if there's really nothing and it's too late?"

"Don't. We can't start with that now. Come here." She latches onto me and sobs. What is this? When did it replace this morning's stony apathy? I think of the letter she sent long ago, the one that was so suddenly sentimental, and wonder…

The reality and the danger hit me all over again. I just told this girl I love her. Still, in the end, her life is not in my hands.

We don't have to wait long for Haymitch. The knock just an hour later startles me; I think it might be Peeta at first, but he calls out through the door.

"You two look like you could use some good news," he says when I let him in. His breath is pungent from the wine. "Got through to an old friend in the Capitol."

"And?"

"And, pack up. You leave tonight."

"Tonight? When?" Clove yelps.

"'Bout six hours, I'd bet."

"How?" I wonder. "Your friend must be someone important to reroute trains."

"Oh, not a train."

"Then… what?"

* * *

"Why flying?!" Clove paces the bedroom on the edge of panic. "I don't do flying! We can take a train tomorrow. I'll be fine until then!"

"Haymitch is right. A train is too public. If you want to get there without picking up every camera for miles, this is the only way."

"But – but the pressure! That high up, it wouldn't be good for my head."

"I've been in hovercrafts with my own injuries. It's fine." Does it make me terrible to think her nerves are endearing?

"Katniss! Clove!" My sister's footsteps thump up the stairs. Breathless, she bursts in. "I came as soon as I could. Haymitch told us what's going on. Are you okay?" She's not talking to me this time.

"Yeah, was," Clove says, "until I found out we're getting there by air."

"So Mom knows we're leaving?"

"Mhm. She's trying to get back soon enough to see you before you go. Er. When are you leaving?"

"I don't know. Whenever Haymitch tells us it's time."

"Wow. By hovercraft. I haven't by in one since… sorry."

"Me neither. We'll be okay."

"Speak for yourself," Clove groans. "Where are my pills?"

"In your bag?"

"Nope. Where are they, Kat? Damn it…" She squeezes her eyes shut.

"Um…" I dig through my things. "Here! Sorry." She snatches them and gulps two, taking a long moment to let them take effect.

"That fast?" Prim asks softly.

"It's the stress," Clove mumbles. "Blood pressure. Whatever." She swallows another pill. "And these barely help anymore."

"This is why every minute counts," I whisper to Prim.

The sun is just starting to set when I hear the front door open, and my hope that it's Mom evaporates with "Hello, ladies! Time to go!"

"There's Haymitch." It doesn't have to be said. "Ready?"

"No."

"I'll be right beside you the whole time." I squeeze her hand.

"Call me this time, okay?" Prim pleads. "Don't keep us in the dark."

"I won't. Promise."

She hugs Clove, and to my surprise, Clove lets her. "Thank you. I know how hard this is for you, but you don't deserve to live in pain. It'll work out for the best."

"You always sound so sure."

"I am." She smiles. "I hope it's not long till we see you again."

Me too.

I stay ahead of Clove as we walk downstairs. Her balance is unsteady under the pain and medicine, and all we need is for her to pitch forward and fall. Haymitch leans by the door. "Are you going with us?" It would be at least a small comfort.

"Sorry. No room. Besides, I don't feel like taking a Capitol vacation just now. Or ever."

"We agree on that much," Clove mutters.

"We all do. I don't know what friend you called, but thank you."

"Don't thank me till you get what you're going for. Let's get a move on."

I give Prim a goodbye hug. "I love you. I'll call this time. I promise. Tell Mom for me."

"I will. Go on. She needs you," she adds in a whisper.

The vehicle waiting outside has seen better days. I hope we don't have to go far. The driver, about Gale's age, keeps looking at us in the rear mirror while Haymitch goes on about how he met our pilot. I don't listen to most of it, focused on making sure Clove is comfortable, until –

"…best damn flyboy Thirteen had during the war. Bought a scrap fighter-bomber afterward and turned that sonofabitch into the fastest air taxi the world's ever seen…"

"Wait, a military craft?"

"Former. Does that not suit your highness?"

Explains why there's no room for him. It's hard to tell, but I think Clove just turned a shade of green.

The aircraft sits in a clearing outside the district, beyond the mines. It gleams in the sunset, looking so much smaller than I expected and so… deadly. Even with the guns removed it's all sharp edges and curves to points. Stealth and speed.

A man emerges from behind when we rumble up. "That you, Abernathy?"

"Declan! You old pirate!" They slap hands together and shake. "Sounds like I was lucky to get a hold of you. Still not tired of hauling rich bastards in this bird?"

"You know me. If I'm flying, I'm happy. Don't matter who's in the backseat." He spies us. "But tonight I have special guests. Katniss. Thought I might never see you again."

"Er. Sorry, if we met, I don't remember."

"Not personally. Declan Vargas. It's an honor. And I hear your friend here is the cause of all the urgency."

"Yes. Are we ready to leave?"

"Ready when you are."

We climb into what used to be the bomb bay of the hovercraft, now fitted with three cramped seats. Just enough space for us and our few belongings. Declan shows us how to secure our harnesses, then Haymitch leans in.

"I'll keep checking in with your sister for news. You, stick with Katniss," he tells Clove. "She knows what's good for you better than you do. And you." He looks at me. "Don't let her down."

I won't.

He thumps the side of the hovercraft and backs up with a wave. The doors on either side of our cabin hiss closed, and all sound is blocked. Just our breathing now. Clove's gets faster.

"What the hell?" she whispers. "Okay… I didn't go deaf. We're just sealed in a tank. Great. Is it me or is it getting harder to breathe?"

"It's you. We're okay." I take her hand as an air conditioning system spins to life and an intercom hums above our heads.

"All right, ladies, we're at sixty seconds to takeoff. Make sure all loose objects are secured in the netting by your feet. Abernathy tells me flying wasn't your first choice, so I'll try to keep things as gentle as possible. No barrel rolls or fancy moves." I can hear the grin in his voice and get the impression he'd love to show off for the Mockingjay.

Clove pushes her head back in the seat. "I'm gonna be sick. I'm gonna be sick."

"No, no, just look at me." Her eyes slide over to meet mine. I try to smile. She didn't lose it like this on the way to the first arena, but we all had worse worries then.

The cabin suddenly fills with the whine of the engines that sit just behind the bulkhead. This craft was never built to carry people in this space. I won't share my concern with Clove.

"Thirty seconds to takeoff."

Clove twists to look out the window. I tug her chin to face me again. "Look at me. We're okay."

"Ten seconds. Hold on back there."

The whine climbs in pitch until we can't hear it anymore – just vibration through the seats and energy in the air.

"Three. Two. One… and we're off."

We leave the ground with a little jolt and rise slowly into the air. Clove keeps her eyes on me. Out her porthole I see the treetops slip below us, and we keep climbing. Her eyes are closed tight. The ship tilts slightly forward; her nails dig into my skin.

"Everyone okay so far?"

"Yeah, great," I grit.

"The wait for liftoff is the hardest part." Ah – so the intercom works two ways. "If you're still jittery, just look outside and watch the clouds. This is as close to true freedom as any of us can get."

"Uh-huh," Clove groans.

"We'll be in the Capitol in about two and a half hours. Accelerating to cruising speed now. Sit back and enjoy the ride."

Force pushes on us and doesn't let up. I can feel the speed, the power, all churning through magnetic disks a foot behind our heads. It's incredible, and terrifying. No hovercraft I've been in has flown this fast. Outside the cloud columns still glow with the sunset. The dome of the sky is ablaze. "Clove… look."

"Thought I wasn't supposed to."

"Just look."

She cracks her eyes open and looks out the window. "Oh…" We watch over each other's shoulders out the portholes and share a moment of awe. Her grip on me loosens until it's almost a caress. There's no more force now, no ground to watch fall away. Just a feeling of weightlessness. We're drifting, hurtling through the air high above the world and all its turmoil. Declan was right. This is as close to total freedom as we might ever be.


	25. The Sterile Unknown

**-25-**

**The Sterile Unknown**

"Beginning descent. Might get a little bumpy. Nothing to worry about." The intercom scares me after riding so long with only the hum of engines. The sky is dark now except for the stars glittering brighter than they do from the ground. Can we stay up here just a while longer? Clove was relaxed next to me. Now she sits up and bristles again.

"That was too fast. I'm not ready for this."

"As long as I'm here you don't have to be afraid."

The hovercraft angles down and we slip beneath the clouds. The sprawl of teeming lights that appears below looks too mystical to be the Capitol, but we're dropping fast toward it. The radio buzzes once more, but this time it's not our pilot's voice.

"Inbound craft, your vector is unauthorized. Identify and state purpose."

"Shit." We can hear Declan's response. "Ground, this is commuter shuttle Javelin requesting permission to land directly at Salus Medical Complex, over."

"Negative. Those pads are for emergency flights only. Proceed to the airstrip at coordinates –"

"I am an emergency flight. Carrying a sick girl needing a doctor soon as possible. Repeating request. Over."

"Stand by."

Silence.

"They won't let us land?" Clove whispers.

"They have to."

"What if they don't?"  
"They will."

More silence. Finally: "Permission granted, Javelin. Forwarding your call sign to air traffic at Salus. Over and out."

I let out a long breath.

"How do you like that?" Declan says. "Didn't even have to drop your name."

"Thanks for that."

The medical center is huge and stark even from the air as we circle around to the landing pads, each with an illuminated H glowing in its center. We touch down, and out the window I can already see a group of hospital staff coming across the pad to meet us. A few have unnatural skin colors that churn up very unwelcome memories. Declan opens the doors and helps us out with our bags.

"This is where I have to leave you," he says. "I'll tell Abernathy we made it. He'll get the word to your families."

Something occurs to me. "I can't pay you for this right now. I only brought what I had on me."

"It was my pleasure, and you have enough to deal with."

"Oh…" Beside me Clove is insisting she can walk on her own as the nurses try to coax her onto a stretcher.

"I better go. Thank you! Thank you." I hope I see him again to better express my gratitude, but I have a fight to prevent right now. "She doesn't need that –"

"Miss, it's just procedure."

"I said I can walk!" Clove smacks the nurse's hand away, and I grab her arm.

"Don't do this. You have to try to cooperate if they're going to help you."

"What is your emergency?" demands the perturbed nurse.

"It's her head," I reply. "She's having pain and seizures."

"On the gurney," the nurse snaps at her. "Now."

"Please just sit down," I beg. "I am right beside you."

She slams herself down and shoves her bag into my arms. I follow them across the landing pad and through the doors into the bright white, antiseptic unknown.

* * *

"The results are strange. I've never seen a case quite like this."

"Guess I'm one of a kind." Clove is dark and rigid. Tense as a board long before her surgeon joined us in his office. There's nothing I can do or say now – not after a full day of blood tests and brain scans at the hands of nurses and technicians, Clove all along staying nearly silent and giving up no information about herself or her past or her injury.

"That you are, without a doubt."

Dr. Ishida's gently pointed ears are all that give him away as a Capitol native. Not a black hair stands out of place. His smile is clever, his eyes sharp, his smooth voice a relief from others' high, lilting accents. It's not enough to earn Clove's trust, but he might gain mine. He hasn't mentioned my significance once. He exudes calm.

He reminds me just a bit of Cinna.

"Let me show you what I mean," he continues, dimming the lights in the room and touching a few buttons on a projector. Half of a brain floats before us, magnified to several times its size. It's detailed enough to be a solid object, all hills and valleys and smooth undulations.

"That's my head?" Clove wrinkles her nose.

"The left hemisphere of it, where our problem lies. Starting here, and extending up to here." He points out an area around the center of the image. "Do you see how it is sunken? Just a fraction from the rest of the surfaces?"

"No."

"I can. I think." What do I know? Could just be my imagination.

"Very hard to catch in a visual inspection. But. What we have here is a three-dimensional image, and it tells a different story." He slowly turns a dial, and the hologram moves through the layers of Clove's brain. I still see nothing wrong. I can barely pick out the 'fluctuations of density' he claims are obvious.

"Now," he says, "I will overlay the results of the electrical tracers. This was the purpose of the emotional and sensory stimuli we gave you earlier, which I understand was particularly unpopular, hm?

"Just show me."

"We will see now what areas of your brain are active. You _should_ see illumination in all major regions." He taps the air and slides his fingers over the hologram. Tiny blue lines race all over the virtual brain, and now I see. Now I understand. I know Clove does too, from the way she goes so still. There is no blue in the area Dr. Ishida focused on. A swath of her brain just above her left ear is dark.

Dark.

"What you see," Dr. Ishida says as gently as he can, "is dead tissue in the outer layers of your temporal and parietal lobes, straining the surrounding healthy tissue and causing the damage to spread outward and inward. Normally I would diagnose ischemia, an unnoticed stroke, even parasitic or fungal infection; but you have no other symptoms to support those explanations. I could consider blunt trauma, but your skull would be shattered."

She stares at the hologram. "Kat," she whispers, "I feel sick."

He glances at each of our stony faces. "About now, I'd expect you to be baffled, to ask, 'Then if none of those, what is it?' Instead, you look like something has dawned on you. I have the impression suddenly that you know something I do not."

"Am I going to die?"

"I cannot say," he replies. "That depends on whether you are willing to share with me enough information that we may get to the bottom of this mystery and determine an appropriate course of treatment."

She looks at me. I look at her. I know she blames me for being here at all, but I don't care. She knows I don't care. She knows I won't let her walk away out of fear. Not this time. "You better stay with me," she warns. "Every damn day I'm here. Don't leave me alone. Don't trust them. You stay. With me."

"I will. I promise I will."

She stares at me a moment longer as if to make sure I'm not already lying to her. "Okay." She steels herself and turns hard eyes on Dr. Ishida. "Let's talk."

* * *

Our room is small, but it will do. Most of it houses the adjustable bed surrounded by machines and sensors. There's a bathroom, and a little extension for me that I won't use because there's a tiny sofa closer to Clove that I can sleep on. Neither of us wants to turn on the television even for the sake of background noise. Gold sunset light streams through the open blinds, and in the broken beams I absurdly notice that no dust floats in the air. Everything here is filtered. Sterile.

The food is no exception.

"You should eat," I tell her when she makes it clear she doesn't intend to touch her dinner.

"I'm not hungry."

She never is anymore, and it shows around her eyes now.

We were right to come here. I was right. I have to keep reminding myself. Otherwise I'll die of guilt every time she looks away from me, mumbles a reply, fixes her mouth in a hard line. I know what she's going through. I've had my clothes taken from me in exchange for disposable gowns, had strangers fill me with needles, wires, sensors. Worse, they now know who she is and exactly why she's here. I'm on edge too. One of her knives lies hidden in my pocket. This is how it will be while Dr. Ishida consults with his team. He didn't give a time estimate.

At least now Clove has real medication for her pain that doesn't leave her disoriented and lethargic. That's the only concession.

I unfold myself from the sofa and sit gingerly on the side of her bed. "I know you're angry with me. I'm sorry."

"I'm not angry. Not after seeing what's wrong with me. I want it fixed. I want to be myself again. And all this…" She looks around at the technological chaos monitoring her every heartbeat. "I don't want you to see me like this. So fucking helpless. Pathetic. But I can't do it without you because I'm too damn scared, and – I just want. To go. _Home!"_

"We will." I take her hand. "I don't think you're helpless or pathetic or a coward. You came here, and you'll beat this, just like everything else."

"Tsh."

"That's what we do." I lean closer. "We survive." Her lips part, and I kiss her. Delicate at first, then deeper. I feel fingers slide into my hair; tears that aren't mine wet my cheeks. My heart pounds.

When we part, glistening green eyes pierce me. "I better live through this," she grits. "I want more of that."

Even now she makes me laugh. "You will. And you'll have it."


	26. Good News and Bad

**-26-**

**Good News and Bad**

Night falls. The lights of the city replace the sunset and wash out the stars. I can't sleep. Clove can sleep because I can't; she knows there's one set of eyes watching the door. Part of me knows nothing will happen to us here. Part of me doesn't trust the other part, tells me I'm going soft, tells me this place is full of threats waiting for me to nod off.

There's nothing to occupy the time but I dare not leave the room. I sit in the dark on the couch by the bed and think back to the strange string of events that led me here. Choices, choices, all mine. Tearing up my world for this uncertain one. The story ends in this building. _How terrifying_. I'll either leave with Clove or without her. I watch her sleep. She looks fragile in the thin blue glow from the screens and lights behind her.

Little flickers of movement lurk at the edges of my eyes. There's nothing there; just imagined faces and forms. My legs, tucked beneath me, start to go numb. I shift, and my pillow flops to the floor. Clove wakes with a start.

"Sorry," I murmur.

"'S okay." She pushes hair from her eyes and looks around at the darkness. "Saved me from a bad dream."

"They get worse for me too when I'm afraid."

She rolls to face me. "Remember the first time we talked about our nightmares?"

I nod. "You told me to learn to wake up and go on living."

"But I never bothered to ask what you see."

"Do you really want to know?" She bobs her head. "Well… It used to be the Games all the time, but now it's people. Friends. The girl you asked about – Madge. I'll see her, and be so relieved that we're together again, and then she turns… cold. Dead." My skin crawls. "She's asked me to join her before."

"Oh. That's… intense," she says, and frowns, spending a moment in thought. "Did you ever consider it?"

"What?"

"You know…"

"Oh. No," I say, and the answer almost surprises me. "I never did."

"Hm."

Neither of us speaks for a while, and she finally sighs and says she'll stay awake if I want to sleep.

"No." I curl my legs up again. "I don't want to waste the time with you."

Her lips twitch. "Thanks. And sorry for the tragic conversation. I only asked because I was thinking about that, and…"

"Hm?"

"Forget it."

"No, what did you mean?"

She huffs. "You said you never actually considered, you know, just ending it."

"No."

"I did. At first. When I finally came back after the Capitol fell and found everyone gone. Everybody I ever cared about. Gone. Dead. And I thought, what was the point of going on?"

"Clove…"

"For a while I was so close. There were nights when I swore I heard whispers, saw things move, saw their faces in shadows and in mirrors. I thought I was going crazy, because ghosts aren't real. I'd lay in bed with a blade against my throat thinking this is the last breath – no, this one – now this one for sure, then I'll do it. But I never did, and I slowly came out of it. Just… went on living."

I don't know what to say. Compared to what she overcame all while completely alone and how she resisted the easy escape, my troubles feel almost self-inflicted. "I'm so glad you didn't."

"I'd never think of it now. You give me hope."

"You give me strength. The nightmares almost disappeared while we were together in District Two."

"Really? Good. I'll keep you safe."

I find myself smiling at the irony of her saying that while she's the one in the hospital bed. I can see the little scar on her brow that she got when we fought all those months ago. Now I'd fight to protect her.

"You know there's room in here if you're lonely."

"Am I allowed to get in the bed with you?"

"Do you care?"

"Good point," I chuckle and rise from the couch. There really is room for both of us in the patient bed; Clove moves over to the other side.

"It's just that – I dunno – if this doesn't work and we don't get many more nights together, I don't want to –"

"No. Stop. Don't even say that." Careful not to disconnect any wires, I slide beneath the blanket with her.

"I know," she says. "But I'm only saying that –"

I cut her off with a kiss. "Don't say."

"Okay…" She turns over so her body molds to mine.

My nose is buried in her hair. I let my arm rest on hers. It's not enough. I slip it around her waist and hold her close. "No more nightmares. Tonight I'll keep you safe."

"I know you will."

Tonight, and every night forever.

* * *

Listening to Clove describe to Dr. Ishida what the Capitol scientists did to her is agony for me too. Reliving it all is the worst thing for her, but he has to know because it might affect the plan he and his surgical team are creating. He is calm, attentive, and expressionless as she talks.

"Waking up was – I can't even describe it," she says. "There was pain before I could move or talk or do anything. You can't imagine it. Like a hot spike all the way through my head, and freezing cold everywhere else. I don't remember it going away. I just remember it, then the next time I was conscious it was gone."

"I would say you recall the moment between the restoration of neurological activity, and the onset of anesthesia."

"Sure. Whatever they did the first time didn't fix me completely. There were two more surgeries I was aware of, and I think at least one more was planned before I broke out."

"So the repair of your brain tissue was an ongoing process?"

"I guess. They kept me on sedatives when the doctors were alone with me. Cowards. If I was coherent enough to ask questions they ignored me. Treated me more like a machine than a person."

"Do you have any recollection of conversations between the doctors in your presence? A single repeated term would be helpful."

"They didn't fill me in on details," she snaps. "There were lots of long words I didn't know, so I don't remember them. Glands, lobes, hemispheres. It doesn't mean shit to me."

He nods in thought. "I understand. The question that still puzzles me is what caused the deterioration. Was it an inexperienced doctor, faulty equipment, or improper procedure? Or some other experiment gone wrong?"

"I'll never know."

'Then what we see is what we have." He stands. "I will reconvene with my team this afternoon. Barring any new developments we could have a course of action for you today."

I thank him, and he goes. Clove draws her knees up to her chest.

"He studies me," she says. "Like they did. I'm something broken for him to fix."

"It's not fair to compare them," I try. "Studying you is the only way he can help you. The difference between him and them is that he cares about you."

"You think he'll really care if I die on his operating table? He'll just wash his hands and go on with life."

How can I explain that if healers weren't desensitized to death they would die a little along with each lost patient?

But he had better not lose Clove.

"He cares about you as a person. Not just some _thing_ to fix. He'll do everything he can to save your life, and he _will._"

* * *

She has another seizure a few hours later. It's different from the first time. She's less aware. Instead of widening in panic her eyes go blank. When I realize what's happening I smash the button to call the nurse; by the time she comes in, the episode is over and Clove is breathing hard and covered in sweat, clutching my hand. A technician copies all the readouts from the monitors and says he'll take the results to Dr. Ishida right away. It's good, he says, that they now have a record of an episode. It might give the surgeons insight into what they're dealing with.

"I just want it to end," Clove cries when we're alone again. "I come apart from my body. It's like death, Katniss. Every time I feel like I'm dying."

"They'll make it stop," I promise. "That's why we're here. They'll fix it."

It's after dinner that evening when I've given up on hearing any updates that there's a quick knock at the door. We're both surprised to see Dr. Ishida peer in and ask if he can talk to us. Of course, I say, glad he chose this moment and not one when I would have to untangle myself from the sheets and wires of the bed.

"How are you feeling?" he asks Clove.

She shrugs. "No more seizures yet."

"We hope that was the last you'll have to endure. As unpleasant as it was for you, it gave us valuable data on the nature of your injury. There is good news, and there is bad."  
"How typical." She rolls her eyes and I nudge her shoulder.

_Be nice_.

"The good news is that the seizure began where we expected. That rules out many unknowns that troubled me before. There is also a comfortable probability your remarkably resilient brain will essentially rewire the functions of the damaged regions over time. That leads me to the bad news: restorative therapy is not a viable option. You underwent a similar ordeal at least once with unsuccessful results, and now the damage is too widespread for neuroregeneration to be safely predictable. We will need to operate to remove the dead tissues and stop further deterioration." Clove nods slowly as he continues:

"We also want to move forward on a more aggressive schedule. Aneurisms become a greater risk for you each day, and if one is catastrophic enough there may not be a way back. We want to perform the operation tomorrow night."

"But-"

"Yes. Thank you," I interrupt her. "As soon as possible."

"That means liquids only for the rest of the evening and throughout the day tomorrow. No solid food."

"She barely eats anyway."

Clove turns her glare to me. "I feel sick all the time."

"I know…"

"After tomorrow that may all be behind you."

"Can you just be honest with me?" she asks him.

"I have never been dishonest."

"What are my chances?"

"Favorable. Any surgery on the brain brings its risks, but with my colleagues and me you are in the best possible hands – whether you believe it or not."

"Hmph."

"I understand how hard it is to trust me after what was done to you. If it helps at all, know that this will not be the conventional surgery I'm sure you are picturing. The procedure is conducted with microlasers and is entirely computer-assisted. The chance for human error – or interference – is next to zero." He adds, "Katniss can watch from start to finish if she so chooses."

"I can?"

"Yes. We operate the machinery remotely. No one may enter the surgical chamber except in the event of an emergency."

"So no one can kill me while I'm out," Clove says.

"That is correct." He sounds amused, but I know it's a real fear of hers.

She looks to me. "Will you? Watch and look out while it's happening?"

"Absolutely." I will for her sake, but the idea makes my heart pound. Being there, in the moment, watching them work with her life in their hands…

"Then I guess there's no more to talk about." She wrings her hands. "Tomorrow night it is."

"Very good." He makes to leave. Something else I like about Dr. Ishida: he doesn't overstay his welcome. "This may sounds trivial, but try to sleep well tonight. The more refreshed you are, the more prepared your body will be for what is to come."

"Yeah. I'll try," she mutters.

When he's gone, there's nothing to fill the silence. Nothing more to say. Nothing to do but lie down beside her and let her pull my arms around her as if they can hide her from the threat looming inside her own head.


	27. Aftermath

**-27-**

**Aftermath**

"I don't want this to be the last time I see you."

"Don't even think like that."

"Kat, I can't help it. I can't."

We're awaiting the final call. She's already without all the hair from her left ear halfway up the side of her head. The advice to sleep well fell on deaf ears for both of us. It's no wonder she anticipates death; she's exhausted and scared and we spent all morning immersed in paperwork to officiate her wishes in the event something goes wrong. Someone must authorize or refuse life support if she slips into a coma or loses the ability to communicate. She deferred the decision to me; she doesn't want to live if there's no chance of recovery, but she says she won't be awake to gauge the chances for herself, and she doesn't want to give anyone 'a free pass to kill her.' I don't know if I could let her go even if all hope was lost. As if that weren't enough, I am the only one to see to her body if she…

_"I don't want to be buried," she said. "Don't stick me underground in a box. Take my ashes somewhere far away from this fucking place, somewhere in the mountains over Two, okay?"_

_ "Anything you want." _

I won't have to. I won't have to.

"Listen to me. We're both going to walk out of here, and–"

_Knock._

Two nurses enter with a gurney between them. "Clove?" one says. "It's time. They're ready for you." She has the high, lilting voice of a Capitol native. They position the gurney next to the bed and shift the rail down for Clove to slide over without ever putting her feet on the ground.

I walk beside her through the halls, up several floors in an elevator, and around so many corners I lose my way completely. Everything is bright and green-blue-white from the fluorescent tubes in the ceilings. I hate the color, the sound they make, the electric hum. Someone said they emit ultraviolet traces to simulate sunlight for people who spend weeks at a time here. I don't feel it. They're cold.

There are less people the farther we go, and I can't tell if that's making her feel more or less at ease. What am I thinking? There is no ease. Finally, the corridor we're in terminates in a thick door with a security lock. Dr. Ishida is waiting for us.

"Ah, good," he says. "We can stay ahead of schedule. I'm sure you are ready to put this all behind you. Through there is the surgical chamber. It's a clean room, so Katniss, unfortunately you cannot enter. Clove: I know you are uneasy. Two technicians will take you inside for preparation, and put you under anesthesia. They will then leave and remain on standby only for emergencies, and the end of the procedure."

She nods tightly. The door to the surgical chamber opens for two men in lab coats and caps covering their hair.

"Katniss will watch the entire operation," he tells her. "You have nothing to fear."

"I'll decide that." Her voice is thin and weak, but her grip on my hand is as strong as ever. "When I wake up," she says to me, "you better be the first thing I see."

"I will be." Can I be? I hope so.

"I love you."

"I love you too." I kiss her, her hair damp with sweat, her breath trembling, my mouth tasting metallic with fear. "I'll be waiting."

The technicians wait patiently until I step back. Then at a nod from Dr. Ishida they move her through the door. It hisses shut behind them. I try to swallow, but my mouth is parched. My feet feel rooted to the floor.

Dr. Ishida touches my shoulder. "Katniss. If you'll come with me, we can begin."

Numbly I follow him through a door to our right and find myself in an observation area overlooking a room full of controls and screens. Six people are in there, oblivious to our presence. Beyond them through another panel of glass I see the technicians shifting Clove into a machine bristling with instruments, sensors, and metal tools. A mask covers her mouth and nose. If the machinery weren't so white, smooth, and clean, it would look like a terrifying torture device. I'm suddenly conscious of the close walls around me. There's only one door that will obviously be closed behind me.

"It's alright," Dr. Ishida says in that surely well-practiced, calming voice. "The booth is soundproofed to eliminate distractions. You can hear us through intercom, but we can control whether or not we hear you."

"Can I get out?"

"You may leave at any time. I would be surprised if you stayed through it all. Most observers can only watch a surgery for so long before a certain discomfort comes over them – especially when loved ones are involved."

"We told Clove that I would."

"We told Clove what she needed to hear," he says. "You are welcome to stay, but no harm will be done if you do not. There is nothing you can do to help her any more than you have, and by this time tomorrow you will be together again."

"Okay…"

"I will find you after the procedure, wherever you may be by then, and give you a full report."

"Thank you."

He nods and gives me a smile, and then departs. There's a moment of thick silence like first getting into Declan's hovercraft, then he appears in the control room with the others and the intercom opens. I can hear them talking to each other, checking systems, preparing. Clove is unconscious now, and alone.

"Bring the subject onscreen."

Three displays bloom into full color. One must be the view from a camera built into the surgical robot. My Clove… I can see the finest details of her pallid face.

They've been talking more, but I wasn't listening. Their hands pluck at sets of holographic controls, and the robotics come to life. My heart starts to pound as two more booms rise and twist around, all moving down so, so close to Clove that I can't see her anymore except through the camera's eye. A hundred readouts spread across the operators' displays.

"All vitals stable. Breathing a little shallow, but still in the green."

"Ready the ventilator in case it drops."

"Ventilator and defibrillator, go."

"Synaptic monitors, go."

"Optics and digital scopes, go."

"Target area designated and locked in."

I hold my breath when they pause, waiting for… something? A red light on a panel flashes green, and the operator flips a switch. "Laser array charged, focused… and ready."

Dr. Ishida leans forward. "Then let's begin."

* * *

Alone now in the room we shared. It's hours until dawn. Eyes dry and strained, can't sleep. Clove is in intensive care, still under anesthesia. An induced coma. Hovering between life and death.

Dr. Ishida was shocked that I kept my promise, watching every minute of the surgery. He assured me that all went better than expected, that he was very pleased with the results, that Clove would be woken on schedule tomorrow after a period of recovery stasis… can't see her before then… unnecessary stimuli…

I can't remember everything he said. All I know is I must wait. I must wait here alone. Not knowing. Not knowing. Not knowing…

_I raise my bleary eyes to see Madge sitting on the bed. Not the hospital bed. Mine, from District Twelve, in a burned-out shell of a house. Even in the darkness her skin is gray, her eyes pale. "She's gone, you know," she says. "That's why they didn't let you see her. They just don't know how to tell you."_

_ "That's not true."_

_ "I'm sorry, Katniss. But you're wrong." She pulls the sheet down, and there is Clove, blinking at me with the same milky eyes. _

_ "NO!"_

_ "Kat," she grates. "You were supposed to keep me safe."_

_ "I did! I swear, I-"_

_ "I told you not to trust them!"_

_ "This isn't real. It's not happening! No, no, no!" I squeeze my eyes shut and cover my head. There's cold breath on my neck. "Get away!"_

_ "Katniss…Katniss…"_

"Katniss?"

I scream and jump, almost swiping the nurse's face. She's small and fast enough to pull back out of my reach. I thought I locked the door… "Clove? Where's Clove?"

"Just breathe. You were screaming. Having a nightmare."

There's no one on the bed now. Gray light filters through the blinds. I hear rain on the window. "Where is Clove?" I demand again.

"She's still asleep, love." She tuts, big eyes studying me. "You look awful. Can I have something brought up for you?"

"No. Thank you." I rub my swollen eyes. "Well. Maybe… just tea?"

"Surely." For once the Capitol accent is a relief. It means I'm back in reality and away from the nightmares.

* * *

The morning crawls by. I want to get up and walk – anywhere would be fine – but I'm afraid if I go too far I'll miss an update or miss them waking Clove. I settle for wandering this floor of the hospital, looking at strange artwork on the walls, looking out the windows at the rain watering the Capitol. It lets up for a while only to resume as a full thunderstorm not even an hour later. I keep hoping I'll run into Dr. Ishida, but of course I don't. Clove isn't his only patient.

I do see the nurse who woke me, several times. Eventually she strikes up a conversation. Her name is Adamina, and she thinks I am wonderful. Have I watched any television lately? The news is full of rumors about our presence here, but no one can get the full story.

"How long have you and she been together?"

That catches me off guard. "I, uh – not very long, I guess. I – I don't really know when we… It just happened. How did you know we're…?"

"Spending all that time with her in District Two? Ending things with Peeta – so sad, by the way, I can't imagine how hard that must have been for you. But you have to follow your heart."

"How do you _know_ all of this?"

She cringes at my tone. "Almost everyone must know about it by now, love. Everyone who pays attention to the latest, at least. Do you… not?"

I feel dizzy. "No. I don't. I wish no one cared who I am, or who I used to be. Why can't people move on and leave me alone?" She blinks, stricken, and why do I feel guilty now? Damn it. "I'm sorry. I didn't sleep well. I'm scared, and I want to go home."

"I understand," she says. "I shouldn't have brought up such things at a time like this. At the very least you can thank your notoriety for the priority attention Clove received."

"Priority attention? Compared to what?"

"Dr. Ishida is quite well-known. Many people seek his services. For him to take you straight in the door is unheard-of. You're both very lucky to have him – and each other." She smiles almost shyly and excuses herself to go about her duties, leaving me in a fresh state of shock. Was it true what she said? If so, it's one more weight on my conscience.

I don't have long to dwell on it. An attendant comes along to tell me they'll be bringing Clove out of anesthesia soon, and if I want to be present I'll need to come with him to prepare. We take an elevator up a floor where _Intensive Care_ is emblazoned in bold red letters on the wall. At a changing station he gives me a sparkling white coat, mask, and pants with enclosed feet, all feeling more like paper than fabric.

"Disposable clean-suit," he explains. "Everyone in this wing is highly susceptible to infection."

I pull it all on, stuff my hair down inside my shirt, and follow him. Room after room; the walls against the hallway made of glass for easy observation. A cluster of nurses waits outside one door.

There she is. Clove! Small and fragile, head covered by an odd cap sprouting a hundred wires. Breathing. Heart still beating.

Dr. Ishida isn't here either. I don't know if he planned to be. I follow the staff inside, stand where I'm told and wait while they check their equipment and Clove's vitals. She's so close. I could reach out and touch her. I promised I would be her first sight. Will she recognize me?

"Is she prepared?" one of the nurses asks.

"No sedative since early this morning. She'd wake on her own in about an hour. Still want to proceed?"

"Yes. She's been under long enough." She injects a bright blue liquid into Clove's IV and fastens straps around her wrists attached to the bed.

"What are you doing? What are those for?"

"She won't be fully aware for several minutes. We don't want her to accidentally reach up and touch her head. She could hurt herself."

I hope she'll forgive me for allowing it, though I hate even the sight of it. We wait. I'm staring at the monitors, ready to jump out of my skin. The nurses' calm, almost bored expressions make me want to hit them.

Clove's rhythmic breaths become shallow and shaky. She starts to shiver as if with cold; teeth start to chatter.

"What's wrong?" I demand. "Do something!"

"Tremors are common while waking from anesthesia. Please calm down, Miss Everdeen. Everything is under control."

_Don't you dare tell me to calm down! _Clove's fingers lock into balled fists. She weakly pulls against the straps. I can't take any more. I step forward and take her hand in mine. "It's okay. It's okay, I'm here!"

She gasps and tries to say something through clenched teeth. All that comes out is a strained whine.

"Pulse coming up to active rate," mutters one of the technicians. "Still green. Synaptic activity as expected."

"Can she hear me?"

"Hm?"

"_Can she hear me?"_ I don't wait for him to answer. "Clove, it's me. It's Kat; I'm here. Come back to me."

She tries to say my name. Why doesn't she open her eyes? She coughs, still shivering violently, though her skin is hot to the touch. Her arm suddenly snaps back in an effort to get free.

"Pulse climbing into yellow. Talk to her," says the technician. "Keep her calm."

I reach over Clove and take hold of her other hand. "Don't fight. It's just me. You're safe."

"K-Kat – c-can't – see…"

"Try to relax. You just need a few minutes. Everything will come back. Shh." Her struggles cease, but the tremors continue for every bit of five minutes. I stay right with her, speaking softly, doing my best to shush and comfort her. Finally – finally! – her eyelids flutter. She forces them open just a crack. It's all she can manage, but it's enough to see those beautiful emeralds focus and recognize me, even with the surgical mask covering half my face.

"Katniss," she whispers. "D-did I…? Did I?"

"You made it." My cheeks are wet with tears. "You're with me again."

She tries to reach up to me, but can't. I pull her wrists free, ignoring the protest from the technician, and let her clumsily grab my arm. I kneel beside her and hold her hands until her trembling subsides. She did it. She proved the nightmares wrong. We're together again, and though this is far from over, that is enough for this moment.


	28. I Was Dust

**-28-**

**I Was Dust**

"Good. Yes, yes, very good." Dr. Ishida puts down the results of Clove's latest evaluation that included a speech and reading comprehension test. Apparently the part of her brain most affected by this ordeal handles the processing of language. "No significant decrease in functionality, and bone regeneration is, for practical purposes, complete."

"Does that mean I can get out of here?"

"It means we can stop your painkiller intake altogether, and see how things go over a few more days."

"Why? What if I need them?"

"You should not. That's the point. If you can manage without them I will be satisfied that all is as it should be. Furthermore," he adds, "I expect you to go through some withdrawal symptoms. Best that you be here until they pass."

She groans.

"Prove you are fit to leave," he says. "Then you may leave, and you will not have to deal with me again for six months."

"What? What happens then?"

"We need to monitor your recovery, of course. This was neurosurgery, not a scraped knee."

She groans louder and sinks into her pillows.

I share her restlessness. The moment of departure can't come soon enough for either of us. Our little room is shrinking; the walls close in a little more each day. At least they keep out the press clamoring to see us, to see me, to snap up any bit of news. The hospital has kept them frustrated, and I am eternally grateful.

I talked to Prim on the phone two days ago. A letter from Peeta arrived two before that. I haven't built up the nerve to read it yet. Surprised I haven't seen or heard from Gale. Strange how I'm glad he hasn't come, but still I'm almost… offended? Hurt? I don't know. I keep my focus on Clove, and everything else is secondary.

Only hours after they cut off her already-halved dosage of painkillers she's a whimpering mess in her bed. Everything hurts, Kat. Everything hurts. I can't, I can't. She fights, but it's terrible to watch. The pain isn't in her head – it's in her mind. Late into the night she trembles and sweats as her body cries out for the chemicals that sustained it for a year. All I can do is sit up with her and keep fresh, cool towels pressed to her forehead and sing to her, soft and slow.

Soft and low…

Sunlight. Sunlight through blinds rolled all the way up, Clove gazing out at city and sky, gazing and sitting in the bright warmth. I fell asleep at some time; at some time she got out of bed. She hears me sit up and turns, hair stuck to her face and neck with sweat.

"The light doesn't hurt."

"What?"

"The light! I can look out, and it doesn't hurt here." She taps her head, and I remember.

"Not at all?"

"Not here. Not like before."

I have no words for such relief. Such a good sign.

She shudders then. "But can you come sit with me again and tell me I can't take anything if I want to go home?"

Later when I get her back in bed she sleeps. She sleeps all morning, wakes around noon, and forces herself to sleep again. It's the only way she can escape the craving for whatever her old painkiller was made of. I can't pronounce the long name. I nod off too. Get up in search of food. Return to find her sprawled on the bed with blankets kicked to the floor, demanding to know where I went.

"Just down to the cafeteria."

"You could've told me!"

"You were asleep."

"I woke up! You were gone!"

"I'm sorry…"

She's doesn't want to eat, but the nurses say she has to have something besides water. I make her sip a pink drink that's supposed to taste like strawberries. I guess it's passable. The important thing is that it has lots of sugar. Of course that doesn't help her sleep, and we're up late again, though tonight she is calmer than last.

The morning at last brings real change. Clove complains of aches in her knees and back, but she's starving now. She wolfs down three plates of eggs that turned her stomach a week before, and snatches my toast while I'm talking to Adamina at the door. When I turn to find the rest of my breakfast gone and Clove staring straight at me with a crust in her hand, I laugh. I laugh until my stomach hurts. Her eyes sparkle over cheeks still thin and fragile, but flushed with color as she grins at me, full of mischief and life.

Life, life, life!

She's done it. She's proven herself healthy, finally, finally. We leave by night. The lightwashed, starless sky glows overhead. Clove gets up from the compulsory wheelchair and takes her first breath of unfiltered air, stretching and laughing in victory. She grabs me and kisses me full on the mouth, taking no notice of my face burning bright red.

Adamina giggles behind me. "There's joy the rest of us can only hope to feel someday."

"Come on. Let's get the hell out of here!" Clove is about to start off when she remembers the surgeon who saved her stands just in the doorway proudly watching her – his own triumph. She coughs uncomfortably. She still doesn't like him on principle alone, but I know the downcast eyes of unspoken gratitude. "Um," she says. "I'm… Thanks. I really thought I was dust."

He smiles. "Do be careful not to overexert yourself, or take any more blows to the head, hm?"

"Don't worry. I'll be ready next time somebody comes at me."

"You have your hands full," he tells me. "She is a reckless one. Make sure she takes care of herself."

"I will." Yes, it will be hard to slow her down now. I turn and quickly hug Dr. Ishida. It may not seem like much in exchange for Clove, but I think he realizes what a gesture it is from me. "I can't thank you enough. Ever."

"You don't have to, Miss Everdeen. It is my calling to preserve lives that would otherwise be lost."

"Well. Now you can add two more." I can feel her growing impatient beside me. Declan Vargas stands with his hovercraft across the landing pad, waving to us. Haymitch sent him to collect us and take us back to District Two, at least for the time being. There's a knot of worry still in my stomach, for I know how much it cost to bring Clove back from the edge of death. She does not, and does not need to yet. I don't know what we're going to do. I shake it off. Don't spoil this moment. "We'll see you in six months."

"Until then. Travel safely, ladies." He nods to us and steps back. Clove grabs my hand and pulls me at a run across the landing pad and into the hovercraft's cramped belly.

"So!" crows Declan as he oversees securing us in our seats. "You are the ones I'm supposed to fly home, right? I mean, last time I'd have said neither of you'd ever smile again. What a difference a few weeks can make!" A few weeks and a miracle. "And I like your new style."

"Me too." Clove runs her hand over the short hair coming in all around her left ear. There's not a scar to be seen – nothing to indicate anything was ever wrong. "Think I'll keep it for a while."

As we rise into the sky and leave the Capitol behind, she takes my hand and leans into me. "What's the first thing you're going to do when we get home?"

"Take a real shower," I reply without a second of hesitation. "Then sleep for days in a real bed."

She chuckles. "Mm, I'll be right beside you."

Yes, she will be. I wouldn't have it any other way.


	29. Debt

**-29-**

**Debt**

_Katniss,_

_ I really don't know what to say, but I feel like I have to say something. You're in the spotlight again even though they don't have any real information about what you're doing out there. I don't listen too closely because every time you come up, I do too. I'm not the only one you shocked with this, but I think I'm the only one you hurt. _

_I can't lie and say I'm not angry, not devastated. We were going to be married. I love you. Now all of that has to be put away. I keep waiting and hoping I'll wake up and none of this will be real. You'll be beside me again and everything will be set right._

_How did this happen, Katniss? How did she of all people reach you when I tried and failed for so long? I'm sure you'll never tell me. Right now I'm not even sure I'll ever see you again except on a screen or maybe in passing. After all we've been through, that's impossible to accept. It feels like you've been beside me forever. Is it all just memories to you? _

Peeta… He will never understand. I see that now. Not as long as he keeps trying to figure out what _he did wrong_. It was nothing wrong with him, but with me.

No.

Not wrong with me.

Just.

Me.

Just me. Not wrong. Finally right. Finally true. I feel it every time I look at the girl sleeping beside me. Dark hair always a little tousled, face full and healthy again, dusting of freckles across her nose. They're coming out on her shoulders too as we spend more time outside in the late spring sun.

I fold the letter Peeta sent when we were still in the hospital. I don't know what to do with it. He didn't send any more, but maybe he doesn't know this address. Hm. He could find out easily enough from Prim. Or Gale.

Gale. He stopped by on our second day back in District Two, this time with Callista beside him. More accurately, Callista stopped by with Gale beside her. She's certainly imposing, a full head taller than me with a sharp face, dark skin, and commanding voice. It took me a second to find my own after she seized and shook my hand and said how good it was to finally meet me. I think she wants to be friends. I'm not sure. She was hard to read.

Clove snuffles and stretches, blinking up at me. "Mm. What a nice way to wake up."

I smile. It's something I've been doing a lot more lately, and she loves pointing it out every chance she can. _It's like a different you. A whole new kind of beautiful._

"Good nap?"

"Not fair. I thought you were sleeping too. Now I just feel lazy."

"You're the one who needs the sleep. Healing, recovery, and all that."

"Pff. 'M fine." Her stomach growls. "'M hungry, though."

I laugh and slide out from under her legs. "Me too. Come on."

We get up from the couch and go into the kitchen. It's bright now with the old curtains wide open and light streaming in. Bowls of fruit fill the room with sweet smells and color, the red of apples and the deep blue of plums and grapes. She sits on the counter by the open window and leans against me, glowing in the sun. The empty pill bottles are gone, rotten food discarded, layers of dust swept away. Renewed and revitalized. Air smells of tree blossoms and earth. All is green, those eyes, green, green.

* * *

"You've gotta be – no, this – ohh…" She paces, paces and throws the papers up like an armful of leaves. "That's it, then. And they say you can't put a price on life. What a load of shit." Her hands shake; she rakes her fingers through her hair. "What am I gonna do?!"

"You're going to sit and breathe and not put yourself back in the hospital with a heart attack."

"But – but that's –"

"I know. Come here – no, leave it. Don't even look back." Drag her by the hand out of the living room. "Sit down and breathe." Push her into a kitchen chair and kneel in front of her. "It's just money, Clove. Look at me. Money is nothing against the alternative."

"Did you see how much?"

"Yes, I saw. I knew before we left."

"_What_?!" she shrills. "You knew? And you didn't tell me?"

"That's not what you needed to focus on."

"I'm so stupid. I should have known they'd use this to trap me for the rest of my fucking life." She smacks her head against the wall, making me cringe.

"Stop." I tug her hands down to her sides. "Please. We'll deal with everything as we can. It doesn't matter what we owe."

"Why are you saying _we_?"

"Because I mean _we._ You're not alone. We'll figure this out together."

Forty-two thousand, four hundred and seven. That's what it cost to save her. Maybe the shock was less for me because I've never seen that much money in my life. Not in my whole district. It was just a number in a vacuum of more important, more immediate things. I was distracted.

Maybe I still am.

"Any ideas, then? I've got nothing," she hisses.

"Not yet." Even if I had it all in my hand I wouldn't know where to go or who to give it to. I didn't attempt to read the other five pages that arrived with the statement in the mail. "But I kept myself alive and raised my sister on nothing. This is no challenge after what you and I have already survived."

"You're not even worried!"

"No. You're here. You're alive. We avoided the worst. I'm not worried about a thing."

* * *

"Yes, that's correct. Every month, just as it's written in your documentation."

"Right. Thank you. And – once more – if we can't make the payments?"

"Then the creditors will have the option to claim major assets as alternative forms of payment."

"Okay. I understand now." Lies. My scrawled notes are useless.

"Excellent." Her sigh was not meant for me to hear. "Have a good day, Ms. Everdeen."

"You too…"

The line goes dead. I replace the telephone half an hour after I picked it up to try and educate myself about what we need to do. The poor representative I reached at the hospital could not understand why _I _could not understand the flurry of terms she threw at me, and after an exhausting exchange I found myself longing for Dr. Ishida's calm voice and methodical approach. Explaining it all would be no challenge for someone who could make a crisis like Clove's surgery seem like an intriguing puzzle waiting to be solved.

I try to still my spinning head and focus on the important thing: Clove is alive and painlessly browsing the market. I made her go off on her own, fearing the frustration of the call would drive her to act on her urge to tear the papers to bits and pretend they never existed. Had she been the one to deal with the high-pitched Capitol woman on the other end of the telephone, I have no doubt she would've reached the bottom of her shallow patience.

I find her talking to a man whose seat and stockpile of medicines are situated behind a thick plastic pane. "Kat!" she calls. "I was just saying I won't be stopping here much anymore." The pharmacist gives me an odd look, and somehow I think he's not as happy about the news as she is. Then again, I'm not sure 'happy' is the right word at all. Her smile is too tight, her eyes wide open, her voice too loud. She's like that all the way out of the market.

"How did it go?" she asks once we're more alone. The question comes out all rushed, under pressure from within.

"I found out what we need to do."

"Which is…?"

I explain as best I can, realizing just how many gaps still exist in my knowledge. I say words like principle, interest, and installment like I really understand them. She shakes her head when she hears how much we're expected to pay each month.

"Ha! Shit. I can't do that. It's not possible."

"We'll make it work."

"Yeah? What happens when it doesn't work?"

"I… I think… your property can be taken instead."

"You're – they can't. They can't! Tsch." She stalks around for some way to vent her anger and finds nothing but a stone to savagely kick off the road. "Shit! Damn it! Damn it…"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't fucking apologize. It's not your fault."

We walk on in silence for a bit, not returning the way we came anymore. Lost, I stay beside her, thinking and watching the district pass while roads turn to gravel and shrubs outnumber people. Finally, I can't stand the disorientation anymore.

"Er – is this the way back?"

"Huh? Oh. No." She stops and gazes down an alley between two squat buildings.

"What? What is it?" I wonder, looking around for what she might have seen to give her such pause.

"There," she says, pointing. "There's where I confronted Shay for the first time."

I look down the passage. It's all gray but for little bursts of color in stray wildflowers taken root in unforgiving ground. The sun overhead makes one side lighter while the other rests in calm shadow.

"Sorry," she mutters. "I used to come here every now and then to say hello. Sometimes without meaning to."

"I'm glad you showed me."

She goes a little way into the alley and sits down on the shadow side. I follow and ease myself onto the dusty ground. No one speaks but birds. Water sounds come from a stream I can just barely see beyond the alley, and farther out stretches a view of the hills. There is a holy stillness to this place.

"How are we going to do this, Kat?" she murmurs. "I have what I have. You have what you have. I don't think it's enough even together, and when it's all gone, it's gone."

"That won't happen for a while. We have time to figure something out."

"You keep saying that."

"I must be able to earn money somewhere." Even though I haven't collected a single coin since my victor's income stopped with the Capitol's fall. "And so can you."

"Doing what? All I know how to do is fight."

More silence. It's true, I guess. All I know how to do is hunt, and who would buy small game from me now when there are markets stocked with food? She's right. Hopeful sentiments with no plan of action. I don't want or deserve charity, and I'm sure she feels the same. I don't even know how much I have. I never cared before. So many things out of control…

I force those thoughts back before I fall down the spiral. "Something will come up. It'll be okay."

"Stop saying that. You don't believe it either." She sighs. "Let's go home while we still have one."

* * *

That night as she sleeps I lie awake churning. I can't go back to Twelve permanently. Barely temporarily. Peeta is there, and I could never burden Mom and Prim by squatting in their house. I won't accept favors from Gale either, though I'm sure he would be happy to help if he thought it would win me back.

"_Let's go home while we still have one."_

That's echoed around my head since she said it. I've grown fond of calling this _home_, of sharing it with her, of having a place that is ours and no one else's. I don't want to lose all of that to debt or exchange debt for debt finding another _home_. Clove is anxious even in sleep, jaw tense and set as she dreams. I want to put her at ease again, but I'm as lost for answers as she is. All I can do is settle my head beside her, slide my arm around her, try to be an anchor to hold on to.

Maybe she is for me instead.

We have the window open now, just a crack to let in the night's sweet air. The curtain sways with each silent sigh of breeze, and casts shadows from the moon on the wall. They shift and sway like water, like waves on a sea.

The sea…

A glimmer of possibility. A path to be explored. It's nowhere near a solution, but there are still a few friends I can trust, and that gives me enough hope to close my eyes and try to sleep. Before I do, I wonder…

How long it will take from here to reach District Four?


	30. District Four

**-30-**

**District Four**

"Katniss? Katniss Everdeen!" Finnick laughs out loud. "Here I thought I might never hear your voice again."

"Is it really her?" asks Annie from the background.

"It is! Katniss. It's so good to hear from you. How are you? Seen quite a bit of you lately in the news."

"I know," I reply. "Unfortunately."

"So what's happening? Are you and your lady fair settled in again after all that mess at the hospital?"

Oh, he knows so much. Of course he does. He's Finnick. "You could say that. At least we were until a few days ago." I tell him about the debt and Clove's anxiety, and admit my complete ignorance of all things financial. "Finnick… I know it's low to ask for your help after not speaking for so long, but do you know anyone, anybody in your contacts, trustworthy enough to give us advice on this?"

"Hm. You might have me there. My list of friendly names isn't what it once was. I knew a clique that got rich in the banking world, but I wouldn't trust them not to steal the shirt off my back given the chance. I'll have to think on that and see if I remember someone. Of course the first time you call and need me for something I come up empty. What about Hawthorn? I hear he's up there in Two with you."

"He's around, yes, but we never went back to the way things were. I'm sure he'd help me, but I'd rather not accept it. The same goes for Peeta."

"Ah. I thought as much on the second one. How did that go?"

_How do you think?_ "Horribly. It felt like such a betrayal. And he blames himself. It was – it wasn't good. How do you know…?"

"Er, I spoke to him a while back."

"Oh." I take a breath to clear the constriction in my throat. "What did he say? What did you say?"

"He was distraught. He, uh – I don't think you really want to know all he said. It was nothing harsh about you. More about Clove. As for what I told him, it's the same thing I'll tell you. I'm sorry. Really, I am. But sometimes the heart makes choices for us that we can't explain."

"You'd know that better than most."

"I do. You don't regret it, do you? You and Clove – you're happy?"

"Yes, we are. I am."

"That's what counts, then, painful as it might be. Listen, why don't you come down for a few days? We haven't seen you for an age. I'm dying to meet Clove. You can see Aaron, and I know another certain someone who hasn't stopped talking about you since a train ride few months back."

I smile at the memory. "Cady."

He laughs. "She's damn good with that bow of hers. I think you'll be impressed. How about it? You could stay with us. Annie'd be thrilled."

The greatest surprise is being happy at the idea of seeing them. "I think I'd like that. I'll ask Clove and let you know."

"Great. And don't worry. We hold nothing against you for being silent so long. Everyone's got to deal with things their own way."

"Thank you. I'll call you tomorrow."

"We'll be here."

* * *

Clove is hesitant about the idea when I bring it up to her. "I don't know, Kat. They've never met me. Do they know?"

"Who you are? Yes. It sounded like they were following what they could hear about us. And Peeta talked to Finnick," I add quietly.

"Oh perfect! That's the impression I want them to have."

"It's not like that. Finnick wants to meet you. He's glad we're happy."

"And he thinks he can find somebody who can figure this shit out?"

"He's hopeful." _Marginally._

She sighs. "When do we leave?"

* * *

We take a very early train to District Four to avoid the rest of humanity. It's still dark and chilly when we leave Two, and the horizon doesn't brighten until we're at least halfway there. Clove dozes on my shoulder. I lean my head against the window and watch birds and mist in the air over plains, among trees; the mountains fell away miles ago. Soon enough we turn full eastward. My window moves into the train's own shadow, and I let my eyes close.

I must have been more tired than I thought. Some time later I'm woken by the pull of deceleration. I didn't pay much attention to the environment of District Four the last time I was here, but based on the changes in earth and plants we must be close. The ground is light with sand. Short, gnarled evergreens outnumber leafy trees, except for an occasional palm stretching for the sky. Long grasses spring up to sway in the breeze. I nudge Clove.

"We're here."

"Mm?" She blinks. "Why'd we have to be? I was comfortable."

The train pulls into the station; we collect our things and go. Finnick said he'd meet us on the platform. I think back to District Ten's chaos and wonder how hard it will be to find him.

I don't wonder long. Fresh, tangy salt air rushes at us when the doors open. The air is warm, the light still soft, and a small crowd surrounds Finnick Odair.

"Oh no," I moan.

"There they are!" he declares, and the onlookers give a cheer.

"Wha-?" Clove squeaks. "Did you know about this?"

"No. He has explaining to do." I start down the steps alone. She's rooted to the spot. "Come on. Best to get moving fast."

"Hurry now!" Finnick calls. "Don't want to be on board when they take off!"

She follows after me, eyes darting. "What the hell. What the hell!"

I try my best to fake a smile; all the practice never helped. It must look more like a snarl. "Finnick. You didn't say you'd be announcing our visit."

"I didn't!" He grins. "Ran into a few friends on the way here, and it came up."

"Did it _come up_?"

"Is it ever a pleasure to meet you!" He leans around me and grabs Clove's hand. "Sorry about the welcome party. Why don't we head back to the house? Annie and Aaron are waiting for us."

"That'd be appreciated," she grits.

He grabs her bag from the ground before she can protest. "Everybody, thank you, show's over for now. They'll be around a few days, go on, go on!" We follow the path he makes through the group. I'll never be fond of or even used to this kind of reception. Clove is completely wired now, looking back over her shoulder every couple steps, trying to give attention the slip.

"I'm sorry about that. Really," Finnick says. "I promise I didn't plan it. Just one of those things that happens sometimes."

"Hm."

"Do they know who I am?" Clove asks. "Do _you _know?"

"Course I do! You're the luckiest girl in Panem, that's who you are. On your third lease on life, and you won Katniss Everdeen all for yourself!"

"Lucky. Yeah."

"What, d'you expect everyone to hate you? Blame you for what happened? You're just like the rest of us, least as far as I'm concerned. Most would agree with me, I think."

"People would agree with you if you said the world was flat," I tell him.

"Ha, that coming from you!"

We weave through the alleys between tightly packed buildings. People we pass have nothing but smiles and greetings for Finnick, and he gives every bit back. Then they notice me, then Clove, and there's the silence of disbelief that comes right before excited murmurs. We should have come in at night. Late at night. We're here just as the district is waking up for the day.

"Not much farther," Finnick says over his shoulder. "You ever see the ocean, Clove?"

"No."

"Oho, well then. Prepare to be amazed. We're right at the perfect time. Fishing boats are just setting sail." The path we're on becomes a stone street and widens as it cuts straight through a busying marketplace. Walls of buildings still surround us until Finnick takes a left and leads us beneath an archway that might as well be a gateway to a fantasy realm.

The district falls down, down, down a steep incline with the road switching back and forth along its length all the way to a bright white beach at its feet. A hundred piers and docks lance out into the water, and –oh– the endless expanse of sea, sparkling pink and yellow diamonds in the sunrise.

"Wow," Clove breathes.

"Incredible, isn't she?" Finnick says.

"Yeah." I watch her face fill with wonder.

"Today if you want I'll take you down there. You swim?"

She nods.

"You're going to love it here." He shoulders her bag again and we follow him along the rim of the hill. I see what must be the Victors' Village, set apart from the district on the crest of the cliff overlooking the ocean. It looks a long way to walk, and I'm about to speak up when he stops at a row of houses with two stories each, all joined to their neighbors as one structure.

"Here we are!" He digs in his pocket for a key.

"Oh – but – then what's that over there?"

"That's the Victors' Village." He sounds like he anticipated the question. "Annie and I moved back over here as soon as things settled down after the war. Living there is a symbol for something that's evil, something that's dead. But hey, they were built on the Capitol's dime, so we'll use 'em for something. District council's voting this month on what each house will be converted to. We could use more of just about everything." He opens the door to cooking smells and a baby's happy sounds. "But enough about that. Welcome to District Four! Make yourselves at home."


	31. Undertow

**-31-**

**Undertow**

We step into a space decorated by the ocean. The walls are hung with shell-adorned nets, the floors softened by woven rugs. Everything is light and shades of beige, blue, and gray; though the only windows are small and high-set, the room feels bright. One half of a massive shell holds pebbles and dried flowers.

"We're here!" Finnick calls, and Annie appears around the corner.

"Katniss!" She smiles at me, and her eyes drift to Clove. "Oh, hello."

"Morning," Clove replies. "Thank you for having us. It's good to meet you."

Annie just examines her for a beat until the unseen baby gives another squeal. "Yes, yes, I'm coming." She hurries back into the kitchen.

"Probably having breakfast," Finnick explains. "Aaron's demanding when he's hungry. Let's get your things upstairs and then we'll all have a bite." We follow him up a squat staircase.

"She knew I was coming, right?" Clove whispers.

"Yes. It's okay, don't worry."

The second floor is awash with morning light. Up here the east and west walls are mostly windows set in rough wood frames. And why not? Sunrise on one side, sunset on the other. A circle of soft chairs occupies the middle. Doors lead off both sides of the room, but it's so open it feels like we climbed the stairs onto the roof. Clove goes right over to look out at the sea.

"Finnick, this is beautiful," I tell him.

"Thanks. Thought you'd be impressed." He grins. "Wish I could take the credit for building the place myself, but that's a little over my head. You'll be sleeping there." He indicates one of the doors. "I better make sure the little one isn't being too much of a handful. Come down when you're ready."

I leave our bags in the only bedroom that's ever made me think of the word _romantic_. The bed's made of the same salt-bleached wood as the chairs. A window would look out over the ocean if the white curtain were opened. Everywhere I turn, the world here looks and smells warm, fresh, and airy. Salt tang and sunlight.

Clove is still gazing out the bay windows when I come back to her side.

"Are you hungry?" I wonder. I know I am.

"Yeah." She checks the stairs. "Are you sure Annie is alright?"

"She's much better. I'll explain later. Just try not to mention the Games."

"Oh. Not like I ever want to bring it up, but will she be okay with me?"

"I know, and yes. If she weren't, she wouldn't have invited us. Just relax. That's why we're here."

"I'll try."

Downstairs we're treated to our first glimpse of Aaron Odair. The little boy has his mother's eyes and his father's hair, and he watches us until the novelty of new faces wears off. I've never seen anyone look so proud as Finnick does surrounded by his family.

"Already loves the water," he boasts. "You'll see if we go down there later. He can't wait to go out into the waves."

"How could he not? He's from District Four."

"We're all born with it."

I can't imagine having children. The idea of birth is horrifying, and afterward you have someone who depends completely on you for survival. Then for an emotional rock to stand on through the gauntlet of growing up. It's the kind of role Peeta would be perfect for. Finnick too, it seems. Not me.

Annie tells us to help ourselves to the rolls, jellies, and dried fruit she's laid out. It's just different enough from what we have in Twelve to be exotic. The green jelly is almost spicy. She smiles when I tell her how good everything is.

"I'm sorry for being out of touch so long," I add while Finnick is entertaining Aaron. "I shouldn't have."

"We understood," Annie replies. "I'm glad you're here now. Both of you. What's District Two like?"

Clove looks surprised to be asked a question. "Everything around it's beautiful," she says. "But not the district itself. Here it's like the buildings have a life of their own. Back home it's all… low and solid."

"I heard it was different, but it's always hard to tell from pictures. So you like it here?"

"Yes." Clove nods. "I never saw the ocean before. It's incredible."

"Lots of people say that. There's something about it that calls to everyone."

"It's the freedom," Finnick adds. "For me, anyway."

"Freedom." Clove savors her roll. "Hm."

* * *

True to his word, by noon Finnick has us all on our way to the water's edge. We go by a dirt path that skirts the city to avoid most people. It seems Finnick is less inclined to subject his wife and son to the same public he entertains.

As we near the piers the bells of ships and gull cries fill the air with music. Waves rush on the shore. When we round the last dune we're met with the wind's full breath, all spray and salt. Aaron gives a happy cry from his father's shoulders.

"I know!" Finnick laughs. "We're almost there!"

Beyond the end of the dune grasses our feet sink into silky sand, and Annie advises us several steps too late to take off our shoes. She giggles at Clove's distress. "You'll get used to it fast."

"Doubt it," Clove grumbles, leaning on my shoulder to pull off her shoes, then trying to stand on just one foot at a time. "Gah – it's hot!" She grabs my hand and we're running for the stretch of beach darkened by water, twice almost falling on our faces. The few other groups around us give us lazy looks, but must be too far away to recognize either of us. I hope it stays that way.

"Sand gets a little warm in the sun, yeah?" Finnick pulls his shirt off and strides toward us. "Good thing that'll cool you off."

"What'll cool – OH!" The break of a wave rolls over our feet, soaking the ends of our pant legs. Then it recedes just as fast, and I feel like I'm pitching forward. Clove shrieks and latches onto me; I can't keep the grin from my face.

"What's so funny?" she demands.

"Undertow get you?" Finnick laughs.

She grits her teeth as we retreat from the reach of the waves. "I hate wet pants. Hate. Wet pants. What are you looking at?"

What am I looking at? Dark hair all windblown around her face, healthy again, flushed, sunlit. "You."

"Huh."

"I see that smile."

"Psh."

Finnick's in the water with Aaron perched on his back. Annie stands up to her shins in the surf with her dress trailing in the ebb and flow. I'm joining them, I decide. I roll my pants up past my knees.

"What are you doing?"

"Swimming."

"Uh. I'm not sure…"

"Come on." I set off for the water.

"Kat…"

"Come on! It's good for you." My turn to take her hands and pull her along.

"I – don't know, I – wait a minute! Katniss!"

I turn and dive through a wave, coming up a little farther out, shaking my hair out and waving back to her. "Just come to me!"

"Agh! You're impossible!" She gives up trying to keep her pant legs dry and throws herself through the rolling water in an awkward half-dive, paddling out to meet me. "Are you happy now?"

"Yes." I hope she can hear my sincerity around my smile.

We move out past the breakers. Her feet lose the sandy bottom before mine do, so I stand up to my neck and she floats on her back with my hands on her shoulders to keep us together.

"Remember when we talked about going swimming together in your pond?"

"Mhm. Who knew it'd be here instead?"

"Weird how things go."

She gets comfortable enough floating with me to close her eyes. The sounds around us blend together in the sun's warmth.

"I almost like this better," I say.

She murmurs something.

"Hm?"

"Me too."


	32. A Proposal

**-32-**

**A Proposal**

I don't know how long we're in the water before Finnick says they're heading back. We can stay if we want, but no – we're shivering by now. Trudging from the surf, our clothes cling to us in that heavy, dragging way, made only worse by the saltwater.

Clove, so relaxed a moment ago, now has the look of an angry, wet cat. She's not amused to hear how endearing it is. At least it's hot and the sun strong enough to dry us before we're back at the house.

When we've all showered the salt away and dressed in dry clothes, Annie tells us she and Finnick have their usual errands to run.

"You can come along if you like. You'll probably want something more fit for the hot weather if you're staying for a while."

"Thanks, but would you mind if we skipped this time? It's the middle of the day. The people… I don't think we want…"

"Oh, of course. That's all right."

Neither of us wants the attention, but besides that, I'm tired. Swimming against waves and tide is nothing like a dip in a forest pond. I'm drained, and I want to lie down.

They leave us upstairs and say they'll be back in an hour or so. I stretch myself out on the couch.

"Hey. That was my spot to collapse." Clove kneels down beside me.

"You tired too?"

"Yeah. And my face'll be on fire later. Look, it's all red. My cheeks, my nose. My ears! Ugh. I didn't even think about sunburn."

"Oh… I didn't either. I don't feel anything on me."

"Darker skin. Not fair. Move over."

"There's nowhere to move over."

She huffs. "Then let's go in there, unless you want me to nap on the floor."

"Help me up."

She rolls her eyes and goes into the bedroom. I follow and lie down in the bed next to her.

"Much better," she sighs, stretching all the way to her toes. "Is the sightseeing over for today? You didn't tell me Finnick is so… that way."

"What way?"

"Social. Excitable. High energy."

"It's tiring, I know. It took me a long time to decide if I liked him or not."

"Kind of like me?"

I smile. "I knew I didn't like you."

"Ha. But you couldn't get rid of me." She rolls over and tucks herself against me. The room glows white with sunlight filtered through the curtain. We doze for a while, slipping in and out. Sometimes her head on my shoulder, then mine on hers.

"You awake?" she whispers.

"Yeah."

"Mm."

"You okay?"

"Mhm." She sighs. "It's still strange."

"What is?"

"Being alive. Sometimes I just think about it. I shouldn't be here. Twice I almost… hm." She sits up on her elbow. "Kat. Thank you."

"I tell you every time: I'd do it all again."

"I didn't deserve it."

"Stop."

She frowns. "It's been this long and I still can't figure out how to say what I want to. Every moment I have from now on is thanks to you, and I can't begin to say how deeply I feel that, each day."

"I don't want you to feel like you owe me."

"Not like I owe you – I do, everything – but that's not what I meant. The connection. I meant the connection. We'll always have that; it's forever. And I don't – I never knew how it feels to be bound to someone that way. Fuck, Katniss." She leans in and kisses me hard. I don't even have time to take a breath. Her fingers are all in my hair. There's heat in my face, my chest, everywhere when she pulls away long enough to swing her leg over me, then kisses me again.

Bites my lip.

Runs her hand down my stomach and up under my shirt.

I gasp and wrap my arms around her neck. So fast this is happening all at once and am I ready ? am ? I ? ready ?

"I don't know how to say shit sometimes," she breathes in my ear. "But I can show you." She kisses down my neck, down my stomach, pushes my shirt farther up, up my chest. Air coming in gulps. Her fingers curl around the waist of my pants, and my hand flies down to grab hers. She stops; looks up.

"Do you want…?"

I can't steady myself. Why are tears stinging my eyes this isn't right shouldn't be this way…

"Kat." She crawls back up to look down at me, the ends of her hair tickling my face.

"A little at I time." My voice is a wisp. "I'm sorry. I want it – I do. But. A little at a time."

"Your way, remember?" she whispers. "I promised."

"You did."

She kisses me again. Soft. The sudden blaze is smoldering now, but won't go out. Never go out. Let a long breath go. She usually nuzzles under my chin, but this time pulls me against her and shelters me.

"Thank you," I murmur.

"I love you," she purrs.

We don't move even when we hear Finnick and Annie come home. Annie calls up to us; we don't answer, and I think they assume we're asleep.

The light changes from white to gold to pale blue. Finally, there's a knock at the door. "Anyone hungry?" Finnick asks softly.

Clove grunts.

"Is… that a yes?"

"We'll be down in a minute," I say.

"I don't wanna move," she mumbles.

"Me neither. But I need food."

She kicks one leg off the bed. "Well. I tried."

I laugh. All is well between us.

"There you are. Good." Finnick looks up from scaling a fish. "So. I know I probably should have run this by you, but I saw Donovan at the market."

"He looked for Donovan," Annie fills in.

"Details, details! Anyway, he and Cady are coming over tonight to share dinner with us."

"I hope that's okay." Annie watches for my reaction.

It's perfectly okay. "I was surprised they didn't meet us earlier today."

"Who?" Clove wonders.

"Finnick's cousin and his daughter," I tell her. "I met them on my way to District Two the first time. Don't worry. It'll be fine."

"Once we get Katniss pried away from Cady, he thinks he might have some advice for your little problem."

"How?" I blurt.

"I'll just let him explain," he says with an irritating smile.

Around six that night there's a knock at the door. Before anyone can answer, it bursts open. A whirlwind of flying hair runs straight up to me and starts bouncing up and down.

"Katniss, Katniss! Daddy said we were seeing you how long are you staying is this Clove?" She has her bow slung over her shoulder.

"This is Clove," I laugh. "Clove? Cady Odair."

"Cady! What did I tell you? Don't suffocate them!" Donovan catches up with her and shakes my hand. "Katniss. It's great to see you again. And Clove." He flashes her a smile. "I've been anxious to meet you."

"Er… that's an excitable little one you got there." Clove shifts, trying to reclaim her personal space.

"Ach, sorry. Couldn't contain her all night. Couldn't even convince her to leave the weaponry behind."

"Can I show you my shooting?" Cady begs. "I can hit the targets at twenty-six yards!"

"Good work!"

"Problem is, we've got no targets." Donovan tousles her hair. "And we're here for dinner, not a tournament."

"Aw, but I want to show her!"

"You can show me another time, Cady," I tell her. "I think we're staying a few days." She brightens after that.

"Quite the admirer there," Clove mutters to me.

Dinner is loud and boisterous without either of us needing so much as to speak. Finnick and Donovan carry their own conversation; Annie tends to Aaron, and Cady talks endlessly to Clove and me. Not asking questions – talking, needing only an occasional affirmation, a "Wow!" or "Really?" every now and then. It's perfect. So perfect that I don't process at first that she's asked in a whisper, "So are you girlfriends now?"

What to say to that? She watches us with the face of a school kid thrilled to know something her friends don't.

Clove answers for me with a simple, "Yep."

Cady beams. "Ha! Hannah Mullins says her mommy says two girls can't love each other, but when I ask why she just says '_I don't know._' So when everybody started talking about you two she said it wasn't true, but I knew it was, _obviously. _So are you gonna get married?_" _She giggles.

Oh no. Clove blinks, and my face burns. "I – uh – we hadn't…"

"Cady!" Donovan heard her this time. "You don't just go asking people questions like that! What have I told you about privacy?"

"But I want to know!"

"You want to know everything, darling, especially business you're not supposed to."

Clove collects herself first with a shrug. "It's okay. She's just excited." She smirks at Cady. "You'll have to wait and see, won't you?"

Sure, bait her with mysteries. For the first time in a while I need to steady myself in the here and now. We haven't addressed one problem before another matter lumbers into my mind. Can't think about that. So much to think about. No, not right now.

My heart's racing already when I catch Clove's eye and her lips twitch mischievously. It's just for me to see. I feel the tingle all the way to my toes.

Afterward they teach us card and dice games with polished stones as gambling chips. One of the games reminds me of playing poker with my father. It's so similar that I keep losing by slipping into District Twelve rules. Clove brags that she can see every bluff right in my eyes, and it seems to be true. She and Donovan get into an intense match of trying to bait each other, and she's not pleased to lose the last hand.

"Next time," she promises. "I don't make mistakes twice."

It's getting late. Finnick puts Aaron to bed when he starts fussing. Cady droops, bored by the shift from raucous games to quiet talking. After a few admonishments from her father she goes upstairs to lie down, leaving the five of us around the table.

"So." Donovan folds his hands on the table and looks between the two of us. "Finnick and Annie tell me that you have yourselves a little problem."

"You mean all the money I owe for having my life saved?" Clove hasn't gotten over losing at cards. "There's nothing little about that problem."

"I have a solution to offer." The way he and Finnick watch us makes me think they've discussed this already, like two salesmen giving a pitch.

"Don't tell me you're some kind of banker," I warn. "I already know the amount grows the longer we take to pay it. We want to get out of this, not deeper in. That means we don't want to borrow anything from you."

"Easy now, easy," he says. "You're getting way ahead of me. I'm not a banker. Hell, bet you couldn't find one in the whole district. No, I'm a builder. Worked on projects the Capitol ordered before the war.

"Afterward, they left a lot of their shit behind. Tools, machines, supplies, all just lying around the job sites. Some of it got shot up or bombed in the fighting, but enough was salvageable that some friends and I pulled it all together and called it a business. It's how I've been surviving."

"Surviving? You're doing more than surviving," Finnick says. "Helping everyone else survive is more like it."

"I'm sorry, but is there a point to this?" Clove asks. "I have a house. Or are you talking about the inevitable future where it gets taken from me when I can't-"

"Slow down! I'm getting there. The point is: have you considered selling that house you have?"

"And where would I go if I – oh." She bristles. "You _are_ trying to make money off of me!"

Annie sighs and leans between them. "That's not the intent. It just seems like it with all the presentation. We're saying you could sell your home to pay what you owe, and move to District Four where a new house could be built for you at a very low cost." When neither of us speaks, she quickly adds, "I said it would be better to ask you some questions first, but someone assumed you would love the idea, and wanted it to be a surprise." She gives her husband a look.

"People pay with whatever they have," Donovan says. "Fish, equipment, clothes, other services. Rarely money. We give them what they need, and they give us what we need to live and be happy. That's the way it's been, the way it'll be for a long time. Maybe forever."

"That's great," Clove snaps. "But I have nothing. I can't pay you. I can't trade with you. And I do not. Want. Charity!"

Donovan looks sheepish, a little ashamed. "I honestly didn't want it to come off that way."

"I told you this would happen," Annie tells him.

"So you did. You did. I'm sorry."

I find my voice for the first time. "It's a lot all at once. A lot we need to think over. It looked like you were expecting a yes right away."

"No, no, just an idea. That's all, I promise."

"Thanks," clips Clove. "For the idea."

"We'll talk about it," I say, trying to smooth things over, "and let you know."

I don't say when.

"Good enough," he says. "No pressure to do anything. I just want to help."

That night we find the day's heat lingering in our room, and we go to bed with the window open. We go to bed, but not to sleep. Donovan and Cady left soon after the proposal, and the time in between was strained and quiet. Cady sleepily waved to us and made us promise we won't go home without saying goodbye. I wish her simple friendship were the only reason we were here at all.

After lying next to me for a while watching moonlight turn slowly around the wall, Clove murmurs, "He had some balls to ask us that. To assume we need his help to get out of this."

"I don't think he meant to offend you."

"Offend me? Offend us! Or are you okay with the whole thing?"

"I didn't say that. I don't think he meant to seem offensive, or scheming. He wants to help us, if we want his help. That's all. "

"Because you know him so well."

"I know Finnick and Annie. Neither of them would knowingly let anyone take advantage of us."

"Knowingly." She sighs. "The shitty part is, I don't think we have a choice."

"There's always a choice."

"Is there? How can I turn that down? Sell my house for money and buy a new one with trinkets and shiny stones. Don't laugh! That's what he said."

"He said bartering services and supplies."

"Close enough," she snorts.

"We could do that, you know."

"And feel like a swindler for the rest of my life?"

"Let's just sleep on it, okay? Maybe for a few nights. As long as we need to."

She folds her arms behind her head. Lies back. Turns over. Ends up pressed next to me. "Tell me everything will work out."

"As long as you're beside me," I say, "the rest doesn't matter."


	33. The Ocean's Call

**-33-**

**The Ocean's Call**

Sometime in the night I wake to the feeling of an arm over me and weight against my back. I lift my head and turn to look at curled, sleeping Clove. Not peaceful. Tense, teeth locked together. Cold, on top of the sheets.

Wind picked up in the night. The open curtains sway.

I get up to shut the window and pause to look out across the district. There's a storm at sea, lightning setting the clouds aglow. It's sent its chill on the breeze and agitated the waves. They're louder now than during the day; mutterings in the darkness. Every few a crash. Up from the docks drifts the lonely music of boats' bells.

The sheets rustle, and a figure pads across the bedroom. Clove nudges me. "What're you doing? Couldn't sleep either?"

"The window. Think it's going to rain." A rumble of thunder.

"Mm." She leans on the windowsill. "Kind of creepy to look out at the water at night. Looks like there's no end, like it goes on forever."

"It might as well."

"What do you think's out there?"

"The rest of the world, I guess. Other people. Other Panems. Somewhere."

"Other Panems." She shakes her head. "I hope they made out better than this one did."

"Maybe we'll find out someday," I say. "Gale and I used to dream about running away. Finding a new life all on our own. We'd have been caught eventually, but now? There's really nothing stopping anyone from leaving."

"Except miles of wilderness. An ocean. You know, little annoyances."

She makes me smile. "We know a good pilot. Wonder how far a hovercraft can fly nonstop." I shut the window as scattered raindrops patter on the glass.

"Something tells me I can't just run away from this," she sighs. "And who knows? Maybe those other places have Capitols too, but no Mockingjays to topple them."

"Hmph."

She turns my shoulders to make me face her. "I know you don't like hearing that name, but I dunno. There's something about it. Just. Mm." She gives me that dark smile, and I indulge her with a kiss, but the thought of more is – it's just not the right time. "Come back here and keep me warm." She takes my hand and I let her tug me back to bed and situate my arm around her. "That's better," she murmurs.

I pull the sheets over us. She's right – there's no running. Still, we can dream.

* * *

"Steady your arm and plant this foot. That's it. Draw slowly. Don't let your elbow bend."

Cady draws the bowstring back and grits her teeth as she tries to hold her arm straight. "Nngh. I can't hold it."

"You have to build up your strength. You'll get there with practice. And remember to let the arrow go just by opening your fingers. You don't need to throw it. Let the bow do the work."

"Okay." She takes aim again, checking her posture and letting out her breath as she pulls back. Lets go without jerking her shoulder. The arrow whistles through the air and plunges into the bag of grass that is her target. It's way off center, but still a hit. She jumps with a whoop and runs to reclaim her ammunition. It was her longest shot yet.

"Some people really can't teach." Clove's been watching us a few paces behind me. "But you can."

"Oh. Thanks. I'm just showing her what I do."

"Did you teach your sister too?"

"No. Never wanted to learn. She wouldn't have the heart to shoot anything, even to feed herself."

"I think this one just does it to feel like her hero."

Cady runs back with a full quiver. "I'm ready!"

"Hold on," Clove says. "I want to try something."

"Do you shoot too?"

"Not exactly." Clove saunters up to the line Cady shot from. When she turns, a silver blade dances between her fingers.

"Where'd you have that?" I laugh.

She shrugs. "I'm always prepared. How far away is that bag?"

"Twenty-seven yards," Cady declares.

"Mm. That's long. Let's see how rusty I am."

"What's she gonna do?"

"Just watch."

Clove flips the knife once in the air and whips it at the bag. I'll never understand how she does what she does. It arcs beautifully but strikes the target hilt-first, spinning away in a spray of sand.

"Shit," she hisses.

"Wow!" Cady's no less impressed. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"Eh. It looks better when it sticks."

"She's being modest," I tell Cady. "She learned it on her own, and she's a natural." I see Clove smile when she thinks I'm not looking.

We spend most of the afternoon on the beach swimming, sunning ourselves, and shooting the bow. I have to admit I'm enjoying myself. My limbs remember what to do; these are easy shots for me. Clove even takes a few turns. She's not bad, but she's used to a different kind of finesse. Despite her greater strength, she has as much trouble as Cady hitting the target. Her arrows fly farther, though, and the two of them get into a distance competition.

As the day wears on and people start to come out on the sand, we have to pack up and head back to the house. We're all hungry anyway. Gulls wheel overhead singing their cries to each other. The ceaseless rhythm of waves follows us all the way up the long hill. Cady runs a little way ahead of us, hunting imaginary game.

It's our last day in District Four.

Clove looks out over the town as we trek back.

"It never stops being beautiful."

"Mhm."

"Will be nice never to be cold again."

"No more snowstorms."

"If there were mountains right back there…" She points inland over the roofs. "…it would be perfect."

"And a forest in the foothills."

She sighs. "Are you sure you're okay with this? You'll be happy? It won't be worth it if you're not."

"No regrets. It's closer to Mom and Prim anyway – by half, almost."

"You need to tell them to visit as soon as they can. Once we're settled – however long that'll take… Everyone should see this." She gestures to the vista.

"Prim will love it."

"I hope we're not making a mistake. I never had to make a decision like this."

"No." I bump her with my hip. "You've faced worse."

"Hm."

Cady reaches the door first. "Hurry up!"

"We're coming! Go on inside. We'll be there in a minute." We linger on the stoop. The warm breeze tugs at Clove's hair, and her face glows in the softening sun. I know I'm making the right choice.

How far we've come since we first met in the snow, and how far still to go. If I'm honest with myself I can't wait to return here. District Two will be quiet without the sounds of the sea.

A kiss on the cheek brings me out of my thoughts. "Well," Clove says. "Let's give them the news."

"It's the best plan," I assure her.

"I trusted you once, and I'm only here because of it. If you're on board, must be the right way to go." She opens the door. "Come on, before I lose my nerve."

* * *

"You will? Oh, that's fantastic!"

To Clove's surprise – and mine – Annie gives her a squeeze after she announces that we'll accept Donovan's help. We'll move to District Four.

"When can we get on with it?" Finnick asks eagerly.

"I don't know," I tell him. "It'll depend on how quickly anything happens back in Two. It could be a week, or a few months. We'll have to see."

"No rush. None at all," Donovan says around Cady's dance of celebration. "And don't think you have to accept any old thing. Let us know what you're looking for, what you want in a place. If we can, we'll make it happen."

"Thank you," Clove says. I know how much pride she has to set aside to do this. "I know you're doing this mostly because of Katniss, but I appreciate everything."

"Who said that? You're a pair now; don't sell yourself short. Besides, been a while since I had to break a sweat at cards." He flashes her a grin that she halfheartedly returns.

After a dinner much more relaxed than our first meal together, it's time for us to catch our train. They all come along to see us off. Thankfully, Finnick doesn't invite attention this time.

Saying goodbye is harder than I anticipated, especially because I can't answer Cady's questions of when we'll return.

"We have to work out a lot of things," I say lamely. "But you'll know as soon as we do, okay?"

"Okay…"

"You'll have to show us how good you are by then."

She brightens and faces Clove. "Maybe I'll be able to shoot farther than you."

"You're on. Don't expect me to go easy on you."

"We'll miss you," I tell her. "Take care of yourself."

"You do the same – both of you," Finnick says. "Don't want to be hearing about any more hospitals or life-and-death struggles."

"We've all had enough of that," Clove snorts as the train glides into the station. It's not a moment too soon. The doors open to let off passengers, and some are noticing Finnick, Annie, and us.

"Don't go disappearing," warns Annie. "If you need anything at all, we're here for you."

"We'll be in touch soon. Thank you all," I tell them. "For everything."

The whistle blasts. We say our final farewells and climb into the train, making our way toward the rear. Through the window we can see our friends waving to us until the station is out of sight. We get one last fantastic view of the ocean before the tracks curve away from the coast and it's gone.

It's still settling in my mind that we'll eventually call this place home. There's something magical about the glimmer of light on the water, the feel of the whole district and its people. Beauty. Freedom. Friends. Clove sits back beside me.

"Thanks," she says softly, "for making me come here." Her face and shoulders are still reddish from the sun. We both smell of salt. She sighs. "Kinda wish we had Annie's breakfast to look forward to in the morning. I thought she'd hate me."

"She's not hateful. They both see you the same way I do."

"I hope not quite the same way. I'd have to disappoint them."

"Oh – no – I didn't mean…"

"I know." She nudges me and smirks. "I like making you stammer."

"Thanks a lot."

The seats on this train are wider than the first, and we're not as cramped. After a while watching the world slip into night through the window, my thoughts grow foggy. I have enough room to curl up and lay sideways with her legs as my pillow. She looks down at me with a smile and plays with a bit of my hair. It's soothing.

"You… okay?" I mumble.

"This is nice," she purrs. "I'll wake you up when we get there."


	34. Last Train Home

**-34-**

**Last Train Home**

It takes the long summer to find a buyer for the house. The treetops are just starting to yellow when the Capitol couple comes for a visit. They're young – older than we are, but still carrying the glow of a new marriage. We learn that they vacationed here and fell in love with the wild scenery. They spend as much time talking to us as they do inspecting the property, and Clove starts to get irritated until they throw out an offer even higher than what she was prepared to fight for.

She blurts an acceptance, and it's done. Months of silence and other failed negotiations end with this starry-eyed pair, and when they leave I think Clove might burst with relief. Any reluctance she had about giving up her childhood home vanished back in the spring the first time she had to pay. That was an awful, anxious day; she stalked around for hours telling me this would never happen fast enough and we were going to starve. Each time was worse. It's nice now to lie together in the sunlit grass and breathe easier knowing there is light to end this tunnel.

"You should call Finnick. No. I want to. Mhm." She smiles to herself, and the air around her is alive with impatient energy. "It worked. Took for fucking ever, but we're doing it. It's happening. Two more weeks. Does it take that much time to pack up all their Capitol shit from their Capitol apartment?"

"I guess," I chuckle. "But I hope they realize this isn't the Capitol. If they dress that loudly all the time they won't be very popular."

"Who cares? They'll learn. Not my problem." She rolls over and drapes herself across me. "We'll be long gone."

In the back of my mind I wonder if there was an extra appeal to buying something that belonged to a tribute, but I don't bring it up. "Long gone," I agree, and brush her hair over her eyes.

* * *

Finnick is ecstatic when she tells him over the phone, and so is Prim when I call her later.

"Finally! I'd love to come out and help you if you need me."

"I think we'll be okay. Save it for a trip to Four when we're moved in. I can't wait to show you everything down there. It's beautiful."

"I could almost see it in your letters. Mom wants to come too. She tells herself she can't leave the clinic, but if you ask me, she's overdue for some time off. Overworking herself now when we actually have help, and there isn't someone dying every day…"

"Is she okay?"

"Yeah. Just – you not being here, it's – different. I think she's still adjusting to the fact that you're not coming back. At least not to stay."

"Is she there? I can talk to her."

"She's with patients right now." Prim sighs. "Don't worry, okay? I'm here. She's not alone."

I hesitate before asking another question that's been on my mind. "How is Peeta? I haven't heard from him in a long time." Not that I expected to.

"Oh. Um. Yeah."

"Prim."

"He's fine. Doing well, actually."

"Why'd you sound so afraid to tell me, then?"

"Well. It hasn't been that long since you ended things. I expected him to go out there and look for you, or declare that he'd never find someone else, or…"

"I'm glad he's not doing that," I tell her. "I don't want him to be alone, or miserable, or angry. I want him to be happy. Have you talked to him?"

"Yes." I can almost hear her shifting from foot to foot. "He's, er – he seems happy. And he's not alone."

"Oh." It drops from my mouth a little too loudly. "Who?"

"I don't know how far things are," she stumbles. "But. He and Delly go around together a lot."

Aha. I nod. Silly, because she can't see me.

"Katniss?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Like I said, I'm not sure if they're… I'm sorry. Are you mad?"

"No, I'm not. That's good." I don't even have to try lying. This is the closing of a book. The moving-on. "Thanks for telling me. If you see them – if they're a _them_ – tell them I'm happy for them."

"I will."

* * *

The evening of our departure is cool and damp. Fog hangs in the trees, pushed down from the mountains by a steady wind. The train station is empty.

Everything too big to move was sold or left behind. Between us we have five bags. Clove has been quiet since we stopped one last time at the alley where she met Shay. The flowers were gone this late in the year, the light melancholy and soft. I stood quietly back while she took a moment with the view over hills lost in mist.

I wish I could've met the girl she silently spoke to there, whose little locket is tucked away with the most valuable things. It's not fair that they were torn apart. When I think of them together, I feel only sympathy for what was lost. My own what-if glides through my thoughts sometimes, but it does no good to dwell. When she walked back to me she thanked me for waiting, and we continued on to the station. Now I'm not sure what to say.

"We can always come back," I tell her. "To visit."

"There's nothing to visit."

"Yes, there is."

She sighs. "I don't want you to think I'm hung up on the past."

"I don't."

"You know the part that hurts the most isn't losing her? I don't know if we would've worked or not. Didn't get to find out. No, the worst part is that she'll never live in this free world. She would've loved to see the ocean and District Twelve and everything else out there. She deserved better than what she got."

"I know."

"Sorry. I'm done now. Sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for." I link my arm with hers and kiss her cheek. We have each other now, and no regrets.

"I know you aren't leaving without saying goodbye," says a familiar voice.

What? I turn to see Gale striding across the platform to us. Why now? Why? "Thought you were away," I reply. "I told you this was the day."

"I remembered. That's why I came back early." He nods to Clove. "It was just boring company business anyway. Callista can handle it better than me."

I take him all in: his shiny boots, crisp, black clothes, cut and gelled hair. He looks like fashion's own ideal of an army captain. "I'm not going to another planet, you know," I say. "Just south."

"I know. But. It was nice knowing you were just a walk away. It was almost like before."

In what version of before…? I don't pursue or question it. "Everything changes eventually, I guess."

"It does." He sighs. "So your house isn't built yet. You staying with Finnick and Annie while you wait?"

"That's the plan. It'll be crowded for a while, but that's how it has to be."

"I, er, said before that you could've stayed with us."

"That's okay," Clove cuts in. "It'll be good to know the neighborhood before we're on our own. And I don't want to hang around here any longer. Clean break, you know? Not slow and painful and drawn out."

I try to hide my smile at the vitriol in her voice.

"Right." Gale shifts. "I'm going to miss you two. I hope you're happy together. I really do; I hope Four gives you what you're looking for." I know he's not saying what he came to say, or maybe I didn't say what he came to hear. "Don't let this be the last time I see you, okay?" That was meant only for me.

"Why would it be?"

"I dunno. Just… take care, Catnip."

"You too."

He hugs me and steps back slowly, finally turning and leaving us alone again on the platform. Clove has an eyebrow raised.

"What?"

"Catnip?"

"Oh. Yeah, it's left over from when we were kids together. I don't like it, come on, stop laughing."

"Good, because I'm not calling you that. You're my Kat. That's all."

That, I like. Very much.

The train glides into the station late as the sunset fades to dusk. Leaves, their edges curled red and brown, scatter around our feet, and I shiver. We're not dressed for this season; where we're going the summer will never end.

"You're going to miss it, aren't you?" I ask as she looks back over the darkening district.

"Nah." She smiles then. "I've said my goodbyes. Nothing left to leave behind." She lifts her bags. "You ready?"

"If you are."

"Let's go. I want the window seat this time."

I laugh and follow her onto the train. It's strange; we spent so little time in District Four, but the thought of what waits there – friends, a new life, a place to call our own – makes leaving painless, at least for me. I think she's the same. We don't have much of a plan for starting that new life. We'll make it as we go, and right now, here and now, this moment as we sit and the doors close on the autumn chill, I don't worry. Clove is at my side, sun and sea and warmth ahead.

Now more than ever, I feel the sense of going home.


	35. Epilogue: Secret Moments

**-Epilogue-**

**Secret Moments**

A year flows by, then two, with barely a change of seasons to mark them. Winter is just slightly less warm than summer. It's a new rhythm; tide in, tide out. Drier months, rainy months. The flowering bushes by our windows never sleep.

The house is small, but it fits us. Every space is bright and fresh, the kitchen full of color, our bedroom lush with floral scents and always that tang of salt. I take a moment just to sit and collect myself.

I'm tired from my day with the boys. Aaron and Flynn Odair have a way of overwhelming their mother despite the younger not yet walking. Finnick can't always be at home, and Annie welcomes my company and my help. I wish I had more time to offer. I have lessons to give, arrows to fletch, letters to write… So much more than I ever thought I'd do.

I feel alive each day.

Right now, though, I feel hungry too. A glance at the clock says Clove was delayed, probably shaving stray grams off a harpoon shaft until it balances on one finger. That's her teacher's standard, and she rises to every challenge. Soon she'll start making the spear points and knife blades; then the challenge will be selling her creations instead of collecting each one.

No sooner do I think of getting dinner alone than the front door opens and I hear her call my name.

"Kat. Hey. Sorry I'm late." She grins and hugs me. When she comes from the forge she always smells of wood chips and coal. It reminds me of District Twelve.

"It's okay. Haven't been home long."

"You look tired."

"Thanks." I shrug. "Looking forward to your day off tomorrow."

"Me too." She kisses me. "Me too."

* * *

I wake from a doze on my bed of sand. High above, the sun, warm on my skin. Beside me, a girl in peaceful sleep. I sit up and look across the beach, down where pipers chase the surf and foam builds at the water's edge. Around us, surrounding us, the whisper of dune grass took us to sleep. I stretch my toes and bare legs and wonder what time it is. Not too late yet, but getting on.

"Clove."

"…mmhm."

"We need to go soon," I tell her.

"But I just laid down."

"No, it's been a couple hours. Finnick and Annie will be expecting us."

She fixes her emeralds on me. "I don't care if we're a little late. Don't get many free days anymore."

I relent when she lounges across my lap. She deserves her time off, though as much as she complains about work, I know she loves every minute of it. It gave her new purpose, a sense of self-sufficiency and power. Even Dr. Ishida said, when he saw her for her six-month assessment, that by her disposition alone he wouldn't have recognized her. She couldn't stop smiling at the sight of clean brain scans. Hearing that there would be follow-ups for the next two years did nothing to dampen her mood.

That was a wonderful day. Thrilled and beautiful. We took a train home that passed through District Two with the mountainsides of colored trees and bright autumn sunshine.

I look down at the ring on my finger and let it catch the sun. Things are so different now; I wonder every now and then what life would be like if she hadn't appeared from the snow that day. She wouldn't be around to know.

Maybe I wouldn't be, either.

Thoughts of the past don't frighten me now. Still, there's little point in dwelling. I've made mistakes. Lost. Gained. Broken old promises, but made new ones, new ones I can happily keep. I know the same is true for her.

"Kat?"

"Uh?"

"Where'd you go?" She waggles her fingers in front of my face.

"Sorry. Just thinking."

"About what?"

"Everything."

"Damn, all at once?" She brushes sand from her hair, and I smile.

"You. Us. This."

"Been this way for a while now."

"And I hope it never changes," I tell her.

"Not if I can help it. I'm quite happy here. Right. Here." With an evil grin she curls around me and digs her fingers into my sides. I gasp and try to stand, but she has me, and I end up sprawled in the sand with her looking victoriously down at me.

"You never see that coming." Her lips flutter against mine.

"If I didn't like it you'd never get the chance."

"Keep telling yourself that." She kisses me, tentatively as she's been doing, not wanting to push too far. Maybe it's the light making her eyes sparkle; maybe it's the hush of the grass that secludes us… I want more. I lean up to her and kiss her deeper, lingering, heart jumping in my chest. Her arms feel so good wrapped around my shoulders. Holding, protecting. Run my hands down the curve of her back and feel heat deep within.

She's right – we can stay a while. This is our time, and no one can see us here. Fear and doubt left far behind. Just the sand, the sky, and the two of us.

My Clove and me.

Free.


End file.
